Ode 4.1 - "Intermissa, Venus..."

To Venus, Re: You

OK--
Look, Love. You can’t just send me back to fight
In wars that now are through.
I’m retired, don’t you know that?
And just plain tired, too.
I lost all that strength that I once had
When I was young, and you were new.

Just stop--
Don’t be a bitch. My skin’s too thick
For the same old arrows your son once threw.
Here’s an idea: go fuck yourself
Or at least go where people want you:
Where pretty young men beg and burn
And lust, as pretty young men do.

In fact--
I know just the guy. You’ll have more luck
With Paulus Maximus than I. Here’s why:
He’s well-bred, rich, and cute as hell
With other virtues in supply.
Smooth-talker, street-walker
With talents many, aspirations high.

I bet--
He’d champion your cause. And in the end
He’d laugh to pass all rivals by.
He’d set your image in a victory shrine
Where in honor you would always lie.
With music sweet and incense sweeter
Forever lifting towards the sky.

And then--
Twice daily will green virgin boys
Sing hymns of Love just so profound
And dance in circle hand in hand
And stomp their feet upon the ground
And all the other shit like that to which
Adherents of your faith are bound.

But I?--
Green virgin boys can’t tempt me now.
In fact, they never come around.
I shun the parties where they drink
And drink until their fears are drowned.
Nor do I look for gifts of flowers
Or hymns of Love - I hate the sound!

SO WHY--
Ligurinus? Tell me! Why?
Why these tears come unbidden to my cheek?
Why my tongue goes numb when I try to speak?
Why each night I chase you in my dreams
Through stony fields, over rivers and streams?
I am old, and you are not--
You laugh and run, and are never caught.

Ode 1.5 - The Pyrrha Ode

So who is that guy, reeking of cheap cologne,
Flirting and fawning all over you
With a bundle of roses and cliches,
In that dark secret garden nook
(Where we can all still totally see you)?
Is it for him you’ve done up your hair

All simple, yet sophisticated?
Poor dope. Well, I’ll tell you this:
He’ll soon learn how quickly things can change.
How calm and placid waters can churn
With unexpected, furious storms.

Sure, for now he’s off in la-la land
Dreaming the sweet and silly dream of love
Seeing nothing but your smile and
Conveniently overlooking any gathering clouds.
He’s screwed - same as all the other boys

Who set sail, like him, so unprepared.
And I, with this poem tightly clenched,
Reveal my watery garments dripping now--
An unwilling priest paying unwilling tribute
To the pitiless God of the sea.

Ode 1.11 - "Carpe Diem"

It is better, truly, not to know the final end of things, nor guess
At what the heavens hold in store for us. You could try --
But why?

We’re better off embracing whatever comes our way, enjoying
This winter whether we’ll see ten more, or only one --
Or none.

Even the cliffs shall one day reach their end, drowned
And slowly ground into dust by the restless sea --
Same as we.

Smile, then. Enjoy your wine, and cease these thoughts
Of future years. With every second, time is slinking past--
And wine won’t last.

Thus, carpe diem (as they say)
Tomorrow’s nothing. There’s only today.