THERE
there
at the edge
of wine-dark sea
justice and power
at loggerheads
power ganging up
determined
once and for
all
to crush justice
calling in
all an sundry
ash gray confederacy
of forces and armies
desperate to
cleanse
five thousand
years of history
wipe thousand years
off the map
and they have been
redrafting, redrawing,
rewriting everything
this is prime nineteenth
century in a
Jason Vorhees mask
maybe
before
one evil, stupid misjudgment
kills us
we will all trundle back home
call it stalemate
shake on a peace
to last until
new duplicity
there is no
decisive, definitive end
that brings honour
or any redemption possible
final resolution that
hope for justice deserves
poems 2 die for 