Pulled from a quiver, I was sold down river while rowing a boat; shot by an arrow, dead, I float. Flying skyward, gusts of winds toss in the breeze, floating along I hear a bird’s song. In formation the geese flock, lock stock, BANG, buckshot from the barrel, spiraling out of control, the dogs become feral.

Mounted on a wall, the door slams shut, I fall. No more bird calls, leather overalls or hee haws, the lid closes, I’ve been donated. Passerby taste my tears, feel my fears, scream three cheers, $3.99, I’m all yours. Welcome home, water’s filling the tub, splish splash, children get in the bath; torpedoed, submarined, soaped then cleaned, spiraling out of control into the drains gaping black hole.

Under the sea, over the rainbow, I’ve not a clue of bow nor stern, yet yearn to learn. Wake the captain, stir the crew, land’s ahoy; downtown sights ’n sounds can be heard ‘round, making way on a cavernous day, scuttle’d n’ shoe’d with work to do. Talking, walking, face to face, through this place of grace in space; good day foray of light, strike the spark of my heart. Turning someone screams, “I’ve had a dream which seemed to glean a future bright and true, not for the few, a massive stew, beautiful, by every hue”.

Holy grail of my soul, aghast in a blast born fast, ringing from ear to ear, the moments past like breaking glass. Apparition from the smoke, gather round listen close, spirit moves through all things; lilies (not daisies) make me sneeze, like lions (not tigers) flying trapeze. Give the heart your all, heed the warning, answer the call, it’s fate, begone, apparate.

Taking flights ’a bird in a cage left of stage, whilst right of the middle a jester flutes and fiddles. The King stands on a chair of might, propaganda in hand, he recites, “Alas, we cannot leave the have nots to the mercy of the have gots, while those in the middle sit and piddle. Vicarious, a curious word for people in a heard, it serves a purpose for those that worship; idols inspire but innovation is truly required.”

In this season of reason for treason, how do you answer for the accused crimes? I beg and plea with your majesty for equality. The King retorts, ’tis a question of not who but when, quick someone get a pen, this poor soul’s sinned! Send him to the barracks, better yet, the clerics, nay, let’s see how much slave traders will pay! I shiver with an inundated quiver, sentenced to turmoil and strife, sold down river, into the pirates life. Walk the plank, shackled n’ chained, alligators don’t eat grits. Jump and hope for a rowboat, shot by an arrow, dead, I float.

Antevasin,
Soosburg

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