Poems and other Randomocities
Have you ever felt that you’re in one of those dark places in your life? You’re walking along rather blindly, not sure exactly what lies ahead. They say there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel, and you catch a glimpse of it. In fact, you’re fairly sure that you’re almost out. You feel the fresh air wisping through your hair. The sun is blazing through the opening ahead, and you’re feeling great.
Then, all of the sudden, a collapse occurs. The tunnel caves right before your face as the debris flies and knocks you backwards. It obscures the light you saw before and leaves you dirty and bruised. You get back up, happy to be okay, but disappointed that your path was so rudely cut off. You ponder on your situation for a moment, realizing that it’s quite dire. All of your energies and hopes had been invested in that light that had just blinked out.
What will you do? You turn the query over in your head. Looking at the various facets and the angles that you had as options, you see something that you don’t like. There in your life is an option, the last option. That path that you did not want to follow. The areas to which it lead were murky and foul looking. You have no clue as to the prospects that await you below.
You look at the tunnel that leads off and down. “Danger!” The sign announces, clearly showing that this path will not be nearly as safe as the one that you had just left. You sigh, knowing that there is no turning back. You head down the path and there is a great trembling. The tunnel shakes and more dust comes down. Like a scene from a b-rated movie, all kinds of traps are triggered. A poison dart hits your side, swinging knives slash at your face, rocks tumble down from above. You recall, with sadness, the light that had been so close, and you trod ahead in life, knowing that the only way is forward. Where will you end up from here? No one really knows.
“…and the Puppet Master pulls the strings and the marionettes follow where they can. At times, the strings go slack and they flee from their situation, thinking that they are free, but never are they disconnected. Always being manipulated, they play out their parts, never free to leave this stage called life…”
“This is a story of gallant and glory, of power and honor and fame.”
So said the one, who told me this tale, as he leaned on his wavering cane.
“Never before, related this story, have I to anyone near or far.
You are the first, and most likely the last, so listen, although it’s bizarre.”
“The tale begins in a magnificent field, one of battle and splendor and more.
Everyone came, to join in the fray, the strong, the rich and the poor.
Every good legend must have a hero, else it would be rather dry.
Mine is a beast, a towering giant with stature that stretched towards the sky.
Well regarded by all, he had but one downfall, too high he deemed his own worth.
You, see he was told, of his wonder and might, ‘till then from the time of his birth.
‘To conquer the world! This is my dream!’ He said to all who would listen.
Noble looks, lofty words, great power and wealth all added to build his grand vision.
Soon came there one, who’s talent it was, to tell of the things to come.
He walked in quite slowly on four of his legs, and approached our most opulent one.
“Good sir, and mighty, king of this realm, greetings I bring you today.
I have heard of your great planned endeavors, and how with your fortune you play.
Warn you I must, for allow you to stay, misinformed like this I cannot.
For you see my good boy, you mustn’t try, to be something that you are not.”
They talked for a while, and then with a smile, the wise one got up to leave.
His duty well done, and life soon had begun, to look brighter for all, I believe.
When finished he left, to go find some food, and then sleep a little while longer.
A leaf and some trash, some dirt and some mash, soon bested our wise ant’s hunger.”
Now to the picture, we first started with, our orator with wavering cane.
He looked up at me, and swayed in the breeze, and said to me this, quite plain.
“You see I am still grand, I have a great wig, though the pigment has all waved goodbye.
I don’t have long here, soon I will expire, but not for a while I’ll die.
A dandy lion I thought, though a dandelion I was taught, to live and to give you a laugh.
Disillusioned? Oh yes, but only in name, for you see, great wealth I did have.
I stood tall and proud, and never I bowed, and many a person impressed.
Now don’t be discouraged, and please don’t get down, and goodness! Don’t be depressed!
For come back next year, I’ll always appear. A lion, so dandy and fine.
Just remember to tell me, what fate God has dealt me, and I’m sure that my strength will not pine.”
~ Xanthus Kidd
There once was a dog, who lived near a bog, and wondered his life away.
Never he thought, of the good in this life, and often he went far astray.
One day he read, of a new kind of bread, that made one as happy as Ghandi.
He went to the store, and said “give me more!” and then bought a copy of Blondie.
Of course the comics, for this poem are, quite in a way, nugatory.
What really we’re worried, about is the dog, and the way he continues this story.
Bad puns aside, and for comments less snide, we’ll continue this poem forthright.
I’ll tell you right now, forgetting the how, of what happened to Rawl Contryte.
You see, my good friend, I won’t even pretend, to tell of the glory he found.
The wonders, sensations, and great expectations that met with that night, our hound.
For there in the package, he bought at the store, that marvelous bread of lore.
Was a quaint silver wrapper, and nice shiny foil: within, a fantastic score.
He wriggled his nose, and thought of great prose, (much better than is written here.)
What is it he found, in that wrapper so quaint? I’ll tell you, just lend me your ear.
For there in his paws, (and some in his craws), he reveled in strawberry wonder.
For a love he held, and glory he smelled, in that pop tart he had burst asunder.
So you see here my friend, you’ve just heard tell, of a canine that once was quite down.
But a magnificent treat, soon had he to eat, and all happiness therein he found.
~ Xanthus Kidd