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Chris Saitta Jun 2019
The Trojan dead are whispering
Indecipherable secrets to sodden-eared earth.
The wind has eyes and sees beyond, Titans outremembered.
Ajax and his oft-turned back
Carries again the fallen from the fields:
     The ******-slept clouds, unsuspecting;
     Slumped Achilles of disbelieving-godless eyes,
     Flinging the final spear of his own blood.
     Soldiers all now of the green husk.
Titanic silence engulfs sound,
Except from those who mourn.
The storm is only a storm
As long as the leaves are lost.
Such is the untimely, timeliness of war.
In the post-Illiad Homeric world, Achilles was struck in the heel by an arrow shot from Paris, brother of Hector, whom Achilles had defeated in battle during the Trojan War.

Though there are many variants to the myth, Ajax who was known as much of a warrior as Achilles, in many of these tales carries his body from the field in a show of honor.

For a slide video of this and other poems, please check out my Instagram page at chrissaitta or my Tumblr page at Chris-Saitta.
Worried about all those gays getting married
Playing football , everywhere on the TV
Yeah , and all those dammed dessert rats
Chopping off heads for all of us to see
Shooting those Muslim creeps
Everyone of them had it coming
Now , that's just the way it's going to be

And all those porch monkeys
Cut off all that gimme
They need to get a job
And quit dressing like they were slobs

Kick all those wet backs back to Mexico
There stealing all our jobs
They just come over to breed like rabbits
So they can stuff the liberal ballots

And Damm the chinks , ***** , and redman
There no better than all the Jews
Ther're thieves that steal us blind
We need to get rid of every X , Y , and U
Now that would ease my mind

And all that hogwash crap in the Constitution
That doesn't apply to me
This is the home of the White man
All red , blue , and white you see
That's the home of all that's me ,

— The End —