eudaimonicus, a.k.a. sir happy
I wish our generation of carping
coddled
identity-crazed poets
could be as disdainful of their own
persons
as the greek philosopher anaxarchus
who after being thrown
into a mortar and clubbed with iron pestles
said to the tyrant nicocreon “pound the sack
that contains anaxarchus
but you will never
pound anaxarchus.”
“chop his tongue off!” nicocreon replied
to which anaxarchus
(who I am quite sure had never attended
a poetry reading
on zoom)
bit off his tongue
and spit it
at the tyrant.
Horror Sleaze Trash 