"Good As You Need, a Revel of Lacks"

This poem was a lost one. I found it posted to my journal one night after drinking at a St. Patty's Day party. The poem is strangely anti-war, mostly in the sense that I am not sure where it came from. I do vaguely remember the end (three bits or so), and still like it, because it is a bastardization of the end of Ecclesiastes, sort of. Kind of glad I dug this one back up.

With HARUMPH and a bump, Their sound like long drums, The horizon they topped in the blank of the dawn. With arms empty, and heads Carrying nothing, they fled The cries of "all come", the battle behind. The blood drenched field, With morning sun gild, Sung iambic with Mars' heavy tone. And its lost players, Left its harsh flavors, The break of day coming to find them gone. A thousand, maybe a thousand More. The flow, a pillar of sand. Their great morning passage quite deluvian. "All come! All come!" from behind Followsed with its long note cry. Alas, the battle was already through with them. For the field there, behind, Drenched in blood like free wine Poured to quench the thirsty gods erratic fee, Was their final sight, The coins in their eyes, And Charon took his fair most estatically. And the few still Living, one or two souls, Had no hope to survive that day's noon. So they screamed, and cried, And all manner of lies, Were offered up to sweet clemency's throne. As for the one, Who held to his arms, And shouted "All come" after reason turned cold He HARUMPHED and he slumped, He fell like long drums. And ugly Pluto dined well on his soul. For death like a friend, Comes no matter whence, Or whatever your story may happen to be. Coward or brave, Nothing can save, Your breath when death demands his fee. So forget all your taxes, And enjoy your lapses Of dilligence to whatever god you believe. 'Cause he'll kill you, too, And death'll take his due. And that's just about as good as you need.

This poem written by W. Doug Bolden.

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