By Steve King
© 2014 All rights reserved
The age grew up unlike any other,
comparisons to old times
hardly worth the bother.
In the first war that we know,
the jealous king felt stinging bronze.
But our kings campaign from desktops,
between state dinners
and downtime for noble awards.
Lightning springs from ready buttons.
Weary Zeus had to conjure
a universe of rage.
We have men of the people now
thrust to our vanguard,
average in all but command.
Our last Agamemnon slumbers with stars,
war now a wearying commonplace,
to gather only transient conquerors.
A post for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads