Volunteers Wanted.

VOLUNTEERS

I was restless,
I was aimless,
In the rural and in the town.
I ran up and down,
And round and round,
Under the scorching sun..
No meaning could i discern,
Purpose of life I’d none.
But it is not too late,
To make amends,
For now have I met,
A caravan traversing,
This trackless desert-
Of tall, slender scorpions,
Marching.
Reciting in suppressed tones,
Some old lines.
They wave a rag,
(Oh, it’s a flag…)
Chuckling, ranting,
Winking, hissing
Telling and retelling,
Soothing tales about
Virgins six scores
And a dozen.

Happy are those
Who throw stones,
At strangers,
For they shall see God.
Soothing tales indeed.
But first: Volunteers.
Heads roll my way.
Their eye-sockets so deep…
And I listen,
And I rub the tip
Of my long nose.
And I lick
My dry, cracked lip.
And they wink,
And I wink.
What do you think?
Nothing.
Would you like to throw stones?
Let me think.
Or be strapped, maybe?
You, think of “the 72”.

I wish I could see beyond
Their faces,
But lo and behold,
The rest is veiled,
In cloaks and dark clouds.
I see eagle eyes;
Eyes in need of sleep,
Eyes in need of rest,
But wanting none,
For they are on the run.
For they must
Throw stones…
They must “light dark places”
They must
First snatch some parrot…
Oh it’s so hot.
So hot.
I join the long trek..
Down, down…
To the sea…
For I’m soothed,
In ways I can’t explain.
Yes I’ll be loathed.
I can’t tell when,
But I’ll make news.
We go down…
We like going down,
Honourably.
I’ll get down
With a bunch
Of fine kids.
I’ll tear them,
Into pieces,
Those noisy kids,
I’ll scatter their nest
On my way to rest.
We’ll stand at crossroads,
Camouflaged,
And throw stones,
At strangers.
We’ll go to the cities,
Camouflaged,
And throw stones,
At strangers who
Know nothing about us.
It’s soothing.
It cures this restlessness..
This emptiness..
It gives life
A meaning.

I come from a land,
Of hot sand,
We bathe in blood,
And drink oil,
For water is scarce.
We remain still,
And sting,
For we’re only scorpions.
We like to curse,
When we’re at peace.
We ride camels and donkeys.
The heat is too much,
The blood of yankees
Dry too fast,
As cameras click.

I’m now a sling,
Throwing stones,
Allover the globe,
At strangers.
I’m now a desert eagle,
Up and sharp-eyed.
Viewing from a secret angle,
Patient and red-eyed.
Forget my flaws,
Just mind the claws.

My uncles got long noses.
Peace they count as losses.
They prefer guns over roses…

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http://lovelylivelyhomely.com/2018/04/13/volunteers-wanted/

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