BRUNK HOWARD


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Intrusive

A Commander snake of kind

Perfectly designed

To be the length of an earthworm.

A Commander earthworm

Fully grown in turn

Has a length that does confirm.


It’s a hot day

Both on their way

To combat and collision.

Snakes are gathered

To decide a matter

Dictated by a vision.

Nearby and unseen

Plants, dirts and rocks a screen

Worms form a military thunder ball.

It signals bravado

Based on a Leonardo

Blueprint for to win it all


Both Commander-in-chiefs

With disdain for slinking thieves

Strut their stuff and start crossing hot asphalt.

Down below both armies gathered

But not with all that mattered

Are hesitant to a fault.

For to start the begin

The keys to a win

Are locked inside a mind’s vault.

Both armies know

It was ever so

And need Commanders to begin the assault.


Strategy and tactics aside

There’s no place to hide

Commanders’ bearings lost in the heat.

Each wriggling and confused

In a delirium of what’s the use

In their heads, heat the dominant beat.


Just then two passerbys

Nature lovers to their sighs

Neither aware nor knowing the other.

Shoes protecting their feet

From that boiling asphalt’s heat

Each a wanna be fairy godmother.


One grabs the snake

And decides to make

A decision of aid most profound

To the left or to the right?

Both are grassed so both might

Be the snake’s goal’s ground.

The other grabs the worm

And quickly turns

To the left then to the right.

But the desire to aid

Is a guess to be made

In the absence of foresight.


And so in the way of man

With good intensions but not plan

Each chooses the wrong place to land.

But each Commander crawler

Still carrying heat’s disorder

Has felt a sacred hand.

Each knows the intervention

And by extension

To be the will of the divine

And its delirium on time

And with a touch most fine

Must be celestial design.


Each of the Commander crawlers

By its own order

Bows to the maker’s plan

And abandons war

For ever evermore

And reflects, “If me, then why not man?”


The battle field still down there

In the shaded cool moist air

And the two armies still a’waiting.

Tedium starts to grow

With the boredom that it sows

And unsustainable suffocating hating.


Till all the crawlers’ senses

Stop the wheel of senseless

And start on the nearby pond and beach.

And the lemonade and ice cream

And the reality of their dream

And go never more into the breach.