A Greek Tragedy
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The smiling assassin is wired and hot
and I can hear the ticking of the bomb,
for blind to the vanities I am not
nor deaf to the wept plaintive cries wherefrom
beats aggrieved an inconsolable heart,
betrayed by the Big Peacock born to strut -
not whole but divided in fractured part
by Zorba and Candy with tongues that cut.
Methinks the time has come to call a bluff -
to visit on Ellysian a Greek end
and let the dogs of Sparta huff and puff
in that way which conspirators defend.
Beware the pimp behind the Grecian mask
and the whore of his bidding he does task.
Written: November 2006
Copyright © Keith D Trestrail | Year Posted 2022
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