Endurance

The Kaiser crushed the Belgians, French, and Dutch;
the Tzar groped towards the exit of this war.
A world away, one captain's out of touch,
ice-bound and drifting farther from the shore.
To lead in combat takes both skill and nerve,
and some part--we conjecture--is innate.
Unsatisfied in peace, each chose to serve
unknowing what adventure'd be their fate.
The purpose missing in so many lives
is not revealed in stars, or dice, or cards
Not individuals, but teams survive,
when challenges are other-worldly hard.
His ship's a loss, but with all personnel
Sir Ernest Shackleton walked back from Hell.

moving target

The Polish cavalry all died, of course,
when blitzkrieg blazed at will across their plain.
Machine guns devastated man and horse,
and Putin's sure his troops would do the same.
The Kremlin's propagandists strain to shift
the Nazi stigma of aggressive war.
Where journalists disdain to touch that shit,
just Tucker Carlson's Putin's eager whore.
Technology rolls on, with each defeat
as counter-counter measures swell the price.
Behemoths on steel treads look obsolete
like massive theropods pursuing mice.
The tanks that turned the tide at Marne, an Rhone
seem maladapted to this Age of Drone.

the royal writ

Eight legs lent Sleipnir traction on the snow;

it wouldn't do for Odin to get stuck.
The Roman fashion, building cobbled roads,
would need a labor force that gave a fuck.
Heroic architecture's rare, of course,
Reliant as it is on taxing funds.
No king could build such things of he were Norse;
what one boat's crew can't do, did not get done.
The Book of Judges shills for monarchy
to tax, and underwrite as may seem good.
Portraying tribal life as anarchy,
where individuals did as they would.
Each libertarian needs all-wheel-drive
where workers don't contribute to the hive.

Слава Україні!

Ukrainians repulsing Russian tanks,
remember throwing Nazis out before.
The women and retirees in their ranks
nurse no delusions in the present war.
The Tzarist empire Gorbachev renounced
holds no nostalgia for the Kremlin's yoke.
The prospect of oppressors getting trounced
to many, seems the century's best joke.
Old dreams, that Europe could know lasting peace--
As Kant sketched out, two hundred years ago--
had dimmed as fascists everywhere increased
and yet moved forward, be it fast, or slow.
Sunflowers sprouting in the vernal mud
bloom brightest where they've drunk invaders' blood.

Love and Death

Fleet-footed Thetis just can't understand
how could her darling love what's doomed to die?
The gods had given her to such a man,
but she'd felt no affection for the guy.
This demi-god's more rooted in the world;
eternity's for deities above.
While Zeus fucks every pretty boy and girl
In Patrocles, he's lost his one true love.
Fair Helen launched the action on our stage,
but then retreated to a minor role.
Achilles is the wonder of his age;
the all-consuming war's his to control.
The paragon that Greeks aspired to be
mourns for his therapon, like it was he.