Wake-Up Call "Shoulda," "coulda," "woulda" and "whatever" Are telltales that evince velleity In speakers who most probably will never Instantiate authentic seity. For every post-millenial young snowflake There is a vital task that must be done, But if it's harder than a piece of sponge cake, You'll hear those babies cry, "This isn't fun!" Although our hearts might have us spend compassion On these insufferable anemic morons, It's better to encourage them to fashion Their own way out by harnessing their neurons. Art Less Long than Life When trying circumstances so require, Hypnotic tunes are fingered from the strings Of Orpheus's prepossessing lyre; And when the parlous Siren chorus sings, A man must either plug his ears with wax Or break on rocky shoals. _________________Millennia Have passed, and masters of the tenor sax Enthrall the drowsing souls of many a Sedated devotee of modern jazz, While folks with rather different demographics Deem country music as compelling as It gets. The ancient Greeks bequeathed us Sapphics, A fixed stanzaic form enjoyed today By poets who are predisposed to care What long-interred composers had to say And how they said it. We are well aware That future generations will, in turn, Expect a legacy of worthy art To be on hand when they take pains to learn What went before, though hope will soon depart, And we'd have ample cause to be ashamed, If all that they receive from us is Rap. Artistes of many genres may be blamed For having authored reams of utter crap. first published in Poetry Salzburg Review C.B. Anderson was the longtime gardener for the PBS television series, The Victory Garden. Hundreds of his poems have appeared in scores of print and electronic journals out of North America, Great Britain, Ireland, Austria, Australia and India. His collection, Mortal Soup and the Blue Yonder was published in 2013 by White Violet Press.