Seeking my Howl…

By tdf, February 16, 2017

I am fearful.

Of myself.

For I keep peeking at myself from elsewhere,

and I am finding no correlation with my dreams…

Yet who and what is my I?

Too many parts of what makes up my everything made aware of their existence,

resulting in a mangled muttering of several competing elements of self?

Which is only a worrying possibility,

because at least that encourages me to lean towards…I am muddled but Something,

when I find most humans I meet,

too close to Nothing to be considered as anything more valuable,

often even less than,

a blade of grass…

I am seeking the voodoo people.

This much is clear.

People who matter,

and mean every thing they say, write and do…

With only compassion colouring their expression of self anything but brutal and raw.

Why live a life of your heart and soul compromised?

That is the biggest sin of our human horrow-show.

The greed of so vey few,

reaping their gilded harvest from the lemming masses taught to embrace and protect their prison bars,

and support the death and carnage required to keep the coin coming,

who squeal, squawk and smile on demand.

who speak with prescribed cunning or spoon fed MSM bile.

I am surrounded by robots,

hiding in the assembly line.

The clock is ticking so fast and whilst I am jolly more than morose,

I am lacking inspiration.

And why choose the path of herded sheep,

when I have the fangs of a wolf and am more eager for the neck of the shepherd.

Such battles are getting me nowhere I wish to be,

absent of muscle, support and an assurance of tribal communion,

I will focus more on the part of me which remains believing in Dreams.

A feckless and reckless bambi,

blinkered to all but the glare of our nearest and dearest star in Spring,

and ever eager to feel comfortable enough to prance scurry into the light,

when stroked or given any reason to roll in the lavender and bambi purr.

Yet in the woods nearby lies a Wolf,

haggard yet still eager to howl,

To hunt, to fend off,

Survival Instinct jostling with bambi,

Blue eyes and dripping fangs seeing and feeling the doe eyed purity as the innocence of a child which they are a part of…

time for bed.


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