Monday, July 16, 2007

Socrates in a Dark Alley

A poem that's been percolating in my mind recently, finally filtered down to paper in a make-up writing class last Saturday. Some editing still in order.

Beware this ancient agent of wisdom
  At the prime of his faculties
    Ere he was brought low by his drink

Beware the searching lantern eyes
  Ever on the lookout
    For the honest men of Greece

Beware the sharp silver tongue
  Which cuts with the confounding power of truth
    Implacable corruptor of Athens' fair-haired youth!

To him, all ground is fertile
  Nowhere sacred, nowhere safe
    Be it market, forum, palace, or temple

Beware those wiry hands
  That reach out and grab
    For victims of his method

Then with the force of a knife
  He wrenches an answer to the existential question:
    "Your money or your life?"

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