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...go on, splash a(muck) on the Nellies...

go on, splash (a)muck on the Nellies

Several pretty penny porches
now mere remnants in memory
the Queen remorselessly
ruminates on these;
the veritable vestiges
of a domain,
duly disheveled
by her perilous pursuit
of the marketed realities,
called success
the dream.

Many years many roads,
a number of princes
as wart-toads,
the Queen throws an eye backward
wistfully winces
at the folly,
that may well have been
her final undoing,
or was it,

She lowers ear to her heart,
unearths a new truth
owns her sizeable part
with measured grace,
and some couth:
Eyes wide shut to the pain
agendas pursued
with worrisome might;
full throttle, warp speed
hellish highways of fright;
she collected Queendoms and letters
behind her inadequate(?) names,
blindly but deftly
she excelled in the games;
sold to her and the masses
by the predators
of peace,
preachers of pink
bamboozle the brainwaves
about life’s short-term lease…
the reality
‘tis no more than the blinking
of sightless glass eyes
the pursuit of happiness
sold in the guise
of more, better,
fluff and stuff
with which to;
kill the pain
kill the pain
kill the pain.

Pernicious perverts
had her
chasing the dragon
the dream an imposter
the trickster,
approval a need
love an elixir
a name on a deed…
false buy-in
the seed,
of her
very own,

Hunters of humanity
fished for her favor
left her bereft
of power to savor
the very Queendoms and royalties,
she had spent the years chasing
bird-dogging banalities
constantly racing
toward a non-existent,
finish line.

The place called success
look at me look at me
she was finally worthy
of their ilk
and decree
that she had arrived,

Jonathan Rebel Seagull
(perfect aerialist and relentless odd ungod)
swoops into her cloud
ruffles her feathers
always stern, never loud:
thought you lost me hey Missy?
Nice try
epic fail,
with you ever and always,
while they stood still
watched you,

Look neither hind Missy,
nor fore to the morrow
take only the lessons
step away from the sorrow!
Keep that which you need
to live free of their voices,
succumb only
to more resilient choices
than the greed,
widely accepted,
as normal.

Blow up the boxes
of success and their dream
each day every moment
hear the voice of (y)our soul,
not that of their scream.
For you intuit the truth
it soundlessly waits
to show you
to guide you
in a more even gait.
Walk do not run
for you are likely to miss,
the kiss of the Dragon-Knight
hard-fought and won battle,
of and for,
your own

You are the Queen of your life
this we know to be true
as said the other odd ungod,
‘no-one’s you-er than you.’
So go out and be You,
truer than true
this ain’t your first rodeo
so please,
no boo-hoo!
Life is a mud puddle
so pull on the Wellies,
go splash about
spray (a)muck on the
Nellies (negative that is).

(M. 2014)

Image from: http://lawnfix.co.nz/wp-content/uploads/2013/06/gumboots-splash.jpg