Old Men & Art

After Reading Byron

Disinterested verses like the sea

Swallow all in anonymity.

Self-reflecting songs and those who love them

In the pond are lonely shadows of them.

And a combination of them both

Like an imprecation or an oath

Lasts fulfilled until eternity,

Half-lived and half-imagined destiny.

What's the image none but Keats has got?
He made phrases that he hadn't ought.

You're making a mistake

You're making a mistake

If you think you've got a friend.

Your counselor's an enemy.

And if you unbend

He'll pierce you and he'll gore you

Like those who went before you.

And as a secondary gain

He'll bill you in the end.

3-13-13

 

Old Men & Art

He's a lost old man

Walking into Denny's

In the afternoon

For another cup of java.

What's the cost, old man?
Maybe Brooke and Byron

Didn't die too soon.

And Pompeii under lava

Hid its precious art

From the eyes of men,

God-forsaken Man

Who'd bust it into shards

Preferring specious art

Until it dies again,

Allowing those who can

To play their cards.