Up, Slacker, Up!
Up, slacker, up! Have you no shameWith apologies to Robert Graves
That at the whisper of Love's name,
Or Beauty's you no longer raise
Your ready head and stand at gaze.
Poor bombard-captain, sworn to reach
The ravelin and effect a breach—
But now indifferent and you don't know why
So like a possum you pretend to die!
Love may be blind, but Love at least
Rejects the unleavened and seeks the yeast:
Or Beauty wayward, but requires
More staunchness from her favored squires.
Tell me, my witless, whose one boast
Is that you will not be Cupid's whipping post,
When were you made a man who has no part
To perform in Aphrodite's art.
Will many-gifted Beauty come
Begging of you duties just a crumb,
Or Love not ask to drain the cup?
Arise, arise! Up, slacker, up!
by Mark Perry
in Volume 2 Issue 1
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