Like The Poet, Dislike The Person
Deep, but tongue in cheek!
Modern Titanides, as is their way,
enjoy the inner temple of masochism,
admiring the siren bemoaning
in sistership, they blame aging Cyclopes
no longer trading their currency,
for seeing only instinctive reflections
And, if chuckling Titan babies,
are loved by mothers, who innocently
peck their manhood with tender kisses,
so too, will disguised eunuchs be highly
favoured amongst Melian nymphs.
But, spare us Titanic opportunists who
know when to pounce and call black
humour, heartless, or suckling babes,
wailing at the bursting breast, eager
to remind us of life’s unfairness.
For, Nature, not suffering from mirrored
vanities of Man, has no favourites. And,
if loss of seriousness is the ultimate
measure of wisdom, one can love just
the smell of cowslips in the meadow.
Thankfully, though knowing such souls
must gratify deep narcissistic needs,
denying them true humility and genuine
altruism (faults that interpolate
their safe word-shells so clearly);
knowing all this,
it's still possible to despise the mindset
while admiring the poet.