Like Algae-covered Art Attempting to Create Immortality
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
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A blotched and ruined scene above the tomb
At Vergina reveals the younger face
Of Alexander. There in scarred up gloom
We see this king who’d just assumed the place
Of Philip, Alexander in the hunt
And killing. Well, what else? He wasn’t good
At other things. No. Killing was his stunt.
Crap at governing and what a king should
Do, like in bed, he couldn’t make a son
Or hold together conquered realms the way
His father had. This heir wasn’t the one
To be an emperor. He wanted prey,
That’s all. But still he is remembered, not
Forgotten—unlike the rest of us lot.