Ode 1.23

Why do you look at me like
A deer in headlights
Breathless
Eyes restless
Looking for your mother deer
Afraid of every little thing that moves?
Your tiny heart starts thumping
When the leaf rustles
When the wind hustles
You quiver like a bowl of jelly.
Relax!
No lion or tiger or bear am I
And you’re no little deer alone,
Forlorn.
You’re a stag, baby, full grown.
Nice horns.

Ode 4.10 - Youthful Arrogance

You gorgeous young stuck-up son of a bitch.

Right now you are tasty

but strange hairs of grey will soon be sprouting

in unlikely patches

while as if in exchange those on your head

will fall off in batches

and your once proud skin sags down with despair

all wrinkled and pasty

You too will become an “old troll” as I.

You don’t believe me now...

and you won’t believe it then.

You’ll gape at yourself in the mirror and cry

“Who is this creature who stands in my place?

Who bears my proud name

but bends downward with shame?

And what became of my once pretty face?

How can so much of me have changed, passed by,

when I am still the same? The same?”

Ode 2.3 - Some Frank Advice

Don’t let the rough times make you cry -
Dellius, Dellius, you will die.
Don’t in good times lose your head -
Someday, Dellius, you’ll be dead.

So you can live your life despairing
Wear nihilism like a shroud
Or spend a drunken life not caring
In a hedonistic cloud

But don’t expect a different ending
Than the one we all come by
You can’t stop the river’s wending
Or trees from reaching for the sky.

Might as well enjoy the ride,
Dellius, Dellius, by my side
And appreciate the day
Together, Dellius, while we may.

All the riches you can hoard
Possessions, property, and fame,
No matter how securely stored
Will someday be another's claim.

In a mansion, coffers swelling,
Or meekly in a peasant's shack,
A grave will one day be your dwelling
And nobody can call you back.

Enjoy whatever fortune sends
Dellius, Dellius, for it ends.
Someday, Dellius, we all float
Into the dark on Charon's boat.

Ode 1.38 - Keep It Simple, Stupid

Right. Listen, boy, I don’t much like
These gaudy shoes and frosted hair,
All the loud, pretentious clothes that
All the silly, vain boys wear.

No need to add to what’s already
Perfect, what’s already working fine.
For bliss we need wear nothing more
Than you and me, and a cup of wine.

Ode 2:10 - Poetic Immortality

The poet and the poem -- I am both. Dual-formed
I shall be lifted heavenward
on wings.
I will not remain
on Earth to suffer Envy’s arrows.
The crowded cities shall all be left behind. At last.

I (of lowly parents born, a nobody)
I shall (I who stand before you now, hearing your voice)
I shall not (my dear friend, believe it)
I shall not die. (Oblivion, “where is thy sting?”)

The metamorphosis has already begun. I feel it.
My skin has hardened and broken
Reveling feathers
Soft and purest white
Growing up my arms and shoulders
Ready to take me farther than I myself can go

Higher than Daedalus’ son once flew, never falling
Reaching distant shores and
Peoples unknown.
Unknown peoples
Who do not even speak as we
Shall know my name. Shall call me friend.

Have therefore no sad songs at my funeral
Don’t speak, don’t mourn, don’t weep.
Your grief is unwarranted.
My tomb unnecessary.
Superfluous all.

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.