Stood atop a heap of hybrid dung
declaring victory mine alone
with a parable & a chord to strum

A lucky streak – unbroken thread
following as a rule of thumb
with thoughts as cloudy as an evening sky
drifting on a summer’s breeze
thoroughly confused as I can be
snugly sandwiched between life & death

A sense of mystery on the decline
questioning the Fates:
Whose child am I?

Circumstance Permitting

Pathological ‘meanies’ amplify discomforts,
hard to imagine obstacles
met with the greatest care,
left with only a ghost
of hope so sorely needed
out & about in stormy weather

Venturing forth with random abandon
I curse the ancient demons,
loathe to accept disgrace at face value
never letting go of my spirit for high adventure
and the self-satisfaction
riding on the future of natural selection