The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Libation

Security, the maudlin ruse of the catatonic.
Wealth and power, toys before the ineffability of time.
Fame and history, fictions breeders tell their runts.

If I must persist in this state of excruciation
that is society and civilization
at least blush as the lies drip upon
the stones we dragged across our fathers' bones.

We have been lashed back from the democratic daydream
fallen from legend's pillar and legion's song.
I once cared for such dainties as life and liberty, 
Saluted morality and trusted in deity, until 
Acheron broke forth, and piety was revealed 
a dross, a final risen ghost.

Cover my last eye with the cold old obol of age
A last bitterness to frame the Yquems of youth.
My cellar's last sigh, my final mustiness,
bracing, astringent, tannic, gall
My final libation, I pour thee!
To herald the ecstasy of the final hour
of fated freedom.
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