Gravel - Part I

Hail! Samarkand, end of all roads

Proud abode of the great and good

Light of the desert, sight for sore eyes

Balm to the weary of heart and foot.

The sun sets on Her pearly domes

And shatters into a million lights

Her bazaars fill with men and wares

Her gardens with all earthly delights.

As they walk past Her blessed gates

Both men and beasts sigh in relief

For the day's journey has come to an end

And tomorrow is but a distant dream.

Among this throng of travellers

Is a Viking of the Russian tribe

And a Moroccan and a Chinaman

With a hundred more of every stripe.

They marvel at the sights and sounds

And enjoy the moonlit scented breeze

They plod along the winding lanes

In search of a meal and a place of ease.

Between the palm-lined cobbled streets

Runs a lonely dark gravel-lined lane

It harbours nought but a lonely inn

At whose door stood our heroes fain.

Well met good Sirs, the innkeeper said

Please step over my humble threshold

But the price of my hospitality

Mark thee! Is not to be paid in gold.

A tale I seek from each of you

In exchange for victuals and rest

As long as you can entertain me

Your honours can remain my guest.

Though puzzled by this clause unique

They entered and sat at his table

And as soon as their meal was done

The Moroccan began his fable.

Lovecraft Country

Having despoiled the old habitat till the earth screamed 'Begone!',

They look to new pastures for their tribes…

And the graves of the vanquished become the foundations of the towers of the victors..

For the soil is always fertilized by the blood of the slain, and the rivers dammed by their corpses…

'Tis but a pipe dream of some indifferent Deity…

It has no meaning save that which we give it.

Having befouled their native loam

Until it turned to salt and sand

They gather their kin and roam

The earth in search of virgin land

Armed and tooled they walk and run

Or sail or ride the beast and tides

They bring with them both Gods and men

And make foes of everyone besides

But when they are broken by their own wheel

And what is not barren no longer bare

The lands of others they seek to steal

And in their greed no effort spare

Thus do mighty nations stand

On the graves of those who fell

Their blood and flesh fertilize the land

Their bones arrest the rivers' swell

This world alas is but a pipe dream

Of some indifferent Omnipotent

It follows neither rule nor scheme

Save what we might find immanent

Compliments of...

The orange flame of the forest, is a tree.

And a reference, to my best friends,

Who are stout of heart, and of spirit free.

They jumped off a bridge today, tethered to a rope.

And swung out over a meandering river.

They are bananas, my friends.

Yet to my lost soul, they are a glorious ray of hope.

Reason

Cellulose, lignin, keratin, sporopollenin,

Cytosine, guanine, adenine and thymine,

Uracil and all kinds of porphyrins.

Words, food, water and love,

The true fourteen children of the sea.

Are for their own sake, justified by their own existence.

Rewarded with reason, we must investigate,

The reason behind our own existence.

Is not life a miracle enough to warrant its own sustenance?

Who decides the cost of money?

Who will question the curious?

Who, pray, will answer our prayers?

Answers

Misery is addictive, like alcohol,

A byproduct of life-giving grain

It deludes and clarifies in equal measure

It is the water in both cloud and rain.

Misery feeds many rivers

Many civilizations it maintains

'Tis the cloud that exhausts itself

To usher in the rainbows of gaiety.

Self awareness is a white elephant

Misery puts it to work

When questions plague the sober mind

The answers are not found, but decided.

Every breath is a step closer to death

Every memory swallowed by time

But not all the misery of the universe

Can negate the truth of eternal life.