A Beast of Burden

He halted..

Sniffing the air, he turned tail and galloped off.

Still,
Without delay,
We gallantly dragged our efforts, shooting at the poor beast in hot pursuit

I was unwilling in this sport.
In my heart of hearts I hoped we might manage to tame him instead.
This Mighty Majestic Beast of Burden was too rare to see Death.

But, once our chase had been executed, the noose in our hands drew tight,
Ensnaring the monster in our trap as we had him.

my friends and me are kind'a dopey
not all that pretty neither.
we don't notice much around us
'cept when someone gets a brand new car
or stupid hat
stuff like that

we do the same sort 'a things
decade to decade
ball games, barbies, cards
shootin' the breeze
raggin' on each other
sometimes a little rough
but always friendly intended

First are people truly unfortunate
Who are denied the right to return home
Their native land stolen by fickle fate
In an unwelcome world they live and roam

Second are persons desperate to leave
Cannot flee and are constrained to remain
They continue to exist while they grieve
For an elusive dream they won’t attain

Third are those who emigrated abroad
They choose to reside in a foreign land
As many their good fortune may applaud
At times they feel the loss of motherland

These sleazy intentions
seem to kill more than those so-called "reported" serial orgasms.

To say,
-off the record-
that you give me both...
feels very disturbingly corrupt

yet thats not why you see me blushing.

can this burning betrayal flesh be helped or better prevented? probably not

my fight or flight instinct is to be the only suicidal bunny wet with desire, pressed up against the starving fox
wanting you to give me it all.

this is to be the root of my eternal damnation.

Female ambition
as voter card Caucasian
but no confusion

Ending human rights
due to members supposed slights
Moral leading lights?

Lobby alignment
Political sentiment
Inducing payment

Enemies to shun
Aiding future election
Presidential run

under thunderstorms and candle light
we wait, a whimpering dog and me,
listening to old wartime broadcasts through
the infernal static of an
ancient battery powered radio

( this is where it gets eerie)

It begins to feel like 1942

I start listening intently
trying to catch every nuance
wondering how our guys are doing
hoping for some good news
twitching in anticipation

I was hearing a story I already knew
but was still anxious about how it would end

funny how that is, getting so involved

We are products of our forebears nurture
Bearers of our traditional culture
Not confined by a religious stricture
But our volition and basic nature

Not affected by amoral censure
Nor by special interest conjecture
Deflating any attempts to puncture
Our composure with our victory sure

Lady Macbeth was incarcerated
Due to killing of critic belated
Lord Macbeth faced increasing scrutiny
As to removal of immunity

The Raj was active in covert stages
Republic chose a maverick leader
Spooks used BBC’s news content and images
Messages to Friends by Circus feeder

All countries held to same set of standards
Immigrants returned to their origin
Nations without brain drain progressed forwards
Apartheid states part of history's bin

A poem …

is not bad prose that provokes an onslaught
is not profane, but projects the humane
is composed purposely to promote thought
is not meant to offend, but to transcend

provides freedom to express the mundane
poignantly paints events of History
creates a space to explore the arcane
inspires visions of human victory

some days,
like a blank slate
awaiting a big bang,
I slip comfortably into nothingness
and lounge around
in complete aquiescence

not much I can say about it
(being totally blank at the time)
but eventually
thoughts of a basic nature
start ping-ponging
vague glimpses
of useless stuff

...why do I have a red car
...did Michaelangelo have a last name
...how long have I had these slippers