Walking on the Godney mile
When out of the sky flew a missile
It pinned me right at the top of the chest
This horse fly, wasp or hornet's nest
It was like a flying dagger
On a loaded spring
That the willows had whipped
Where the bluebird's sing
But the only thing singing that day on the moor
Was the wind that whistled
And my cry of pain that soared
Well what I had now was a creepy crawly down my shirt,
I slapped and I wrapped it, but it stang me and it hurt
Then as it tumbled down my tummy, I thought oh mummy!
It will be heading for my waist and my shorts. What's worse!
Luckily the offender flew on its way
But now I had a glowing red bulge upon my gullet
It itched sore like buggery, and my throat swelled
From wasp thuggery
Led me to believe I had been bitten by a bullet's burst
I pushed on and I did rub it to try in vain to dull it
But the pain did throb like a mullet had slapped me off my perch
The moors rolled on in soliloquy
Of a Roman revellery, when Mars the god of War
Is charging full red of face
Belligerently raging, the wind's war was waging
And holding hostage
Willows, reeds all in its embrace
Fellows linked arms and swayed
On that tortuous fierce windswept way
And faced the storm as they face the grave
Together as one, in unity strong and brave
Well what a wasp, what a stinger
What a counterfeit saint and a sinner
To have stung me that way, and then got away
I'm a red rosette winner
My throat swelled up I began to gasp
The sky turned sideways, cast askance
I looked one last look in that final glance
Saw my world fall apart and a fleeing wasp
I fell for what seemed to be days
Down the rhyne in the gutter of the moor's water ways
And saw there all kinds of monster misbehave
From Gorillas in the ditch to crocodile graves
From the tombstones of vampires who could never
Find their rest
To the boomtowns of rats, just past the last harvest
And they each were a forgotten race, by the race of man
Abandoned and left to fend in their wayside caravan
As I slept in the wasp's sleep, it's poison did circulate
It turned my cheeks a crimson red
It turned my teeth an ashen black
As I chattered I did hibernate
Away from men's minds and matters
Into the dreamland of the wasp
He hovers above the flowery field
He zooms in and out of the farmer's meals
And around pots of honey left at the rainbow's end
And I see that he killed me, so I might be his friend
I wake up near midnight
My back it is sore
My legs, are like black defenders
And what is more
There are no longer two
Six instead is their score
And my arms and hands into legs were blended
Nothing like they were before
As for my stomach, a thorax hard shell
Ribs like some titanium
Or carbon fibre as well
Light and of the strongest mould
Nothing less than from the fire's of hell
And I have no bum, no hips, no body
Except a bulbous bulge and at its end
A pointed stinger swells
I shiver at the sight, the thought sickens my stomach
But as I go to rub my eyes I realize
I have none, and then my spirits plummet
What has become of my head I can hardly tell
My mouth is some tapered visor and
With pincers there as well
As for my eyes they are disguised like some huge
Side placed globes, that stare out in all directions
No left or right I know
No night or day either,
Just shades of bright
And this is how I find the ether
Like a flowing road of light
I can see the sky rails
Can see the pollen trails
And thermals, the tiny discrete lines
Too miniature for detection by human eye
At last I notice behind me, folded in some natal sack
My wings like a quiver of arrows, ready for the attack
As I turn myself over
I feel them spread out naturally,
And beat and quaver and wobble and trim
To the humming sound of a bee
I rub my legs together
In some natural preparation for the flight
And before I take off I remember
To clean my large eyes
Ready to have clearest sight
Then I am off, it is lift off
The first unmanned wasp or kite
Is blown by the thin wind
His life to rescind
Which is better? Fight or flight?
I sail in the eves, I investigate nooks and crannies
Where I fail, my wasp heart believes
It can beat all the crooks and nannies
That if someone does you some harm
This sword will rebalance the scale
And you have to be cruel to be kind
In this world, for loser or winner will mind
That there is always a sting in the tale
