VICTIM

Am I a victim or a volunteer?
Do I suffer for the one or for the majority?
Everybody knows more about my life than I do.
Hedgerows black red sun yellow toad in road, verdant
Buckling crackling bracken tomato cherries at the head
Of a crest of surging fire lighting the mantra of poppy parsley
Too twisted I tongue these roads in Malcom Moony's land
Dwarves do combat with cheddar clouds and the earthblot of 
The Elysian majesty, the whole land is berry brown tucked
Under the truth of the swashbuckling sea in it's gravehead night.
Honesty the clean steel of the Pike and Trout, in tinkering,
Pottering streams pouring like children to the
Out of it's head sea. low down the maniac in 
A frightened night dooms his fleshly Gods.
Sharpening the edge of madness I unleash intuition
Weaponing the harness of drunken St.Just at the tip
Of the valley's door, pure granite, she sells rock beer men
Barrelled and humming the land.