May 152012

by Timothy Bearly


He is the grit in the otherwise well oiled machine. The monkey wrench—

in the wooden gears of the loom—endeavoring to splinter the cogs.

The in-vitro injection for the barren minds that cannot conceive.

Impervious to indoctrination, he is the unabashed child that scoffs at the naked—

less endowed—emperor, and gazes back in truculent defiance at the despotic preceptor

who promulgates “thou shalt” or “thou shalt not”.


Pouring salt upon the lionized oleaginous gastropods, he reveals that they are indeed organic,

carbon based—not divine! Thus they—the charlatans and impostors—

have him burned at the stake, drawn and quartered, and tar and feathered.

However, most recently, they prefer to simply ignore, censor, and excommunicate him.

But to no avail—his voice still resonates!


Persona non grata, a companionless eagle, he is ostracized by the flock of starlings,

who all fly together and sing in mellifluous harmony.

The flock, who all hold him in contempt because he flies a unique trajectory,

and sings his own ballad.


He lives in accordance with no dogma, and laughs with scorn at those—cult members—

who consume the figurative blood and flesh of the “messiah” in holy communion.

He breaths a sigh of contempt when he witnesses them—

the brainwashed disciples of an anthropocentric god—turning the other cheek.

Indeed he prefers to teach an inverse doctrine,

in which we smite the smiters that hath smitten us—regardless of their brood.


The antithesis of Boxer—the workhorse from Orwell’s Animal Farm—

he refuses to lick the boots of those who seek to fasten him to the yoke,

for this he is labeled lackadaisical.

A mutineer, he has no desire to be a hero (stalwart soldier), and surrender his identity,

or sacrifice himself for the good any collective cause,

for this he is labeled a turncoat.


But each and every ad hominem that is hurled at him

inadvertently serves to generate his self esteem.

Each time a spineless groupling attempts to assassinate his character,

he is reminded of the fact that he is an untamed lone wolf

and they are the domesticated spaniels.


He has traveled the desolate erg of academe, to find that it contains nothing.

No precipitation, just stifling, thought-inhibiting atmospheric conditions.

Conditions where only the ostriches can survive.

Suffice to say, he didn’t last very long in the dry, empty desert,

of alma mater.


O come, All Ye faithless, come and behold him,

he who slaughters shepherds so that the sheep may roam free.

Come and behold him, he who bows his head in reverence to no. . .