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Feet of Clay

I'll chart a course for savage worlds.

Feet of Clay

I

Let me trade my feet of clay

For a rocket ride

Across the cosmic sky

And I’ll blaze

Outside this Pic ‘n’ Save Milky Way

In search of all the big answers.

II

I’ll chart a course for savage worlds

Convulsing with earthquakes,

Ruled by scaly monsters

That roam steaming jungles,

Yearning only to mate

Or taste the sweet, trembling flesh

Of lesser beasts.

I’ll orbit burned out globes

Whose trailer park civilizations

Crumble from neglect

While Tribal enemies

Scuffle and paw

To paint their desolate

Streets crimson with gooey blood,

Oozing from warriors

Who die smiling for a fairy tale.

III

Or maybe I’ll touch down at Hell’s Kitchen,

A scabby, molten rock

Shrouded in mustard gas.

At the end of the diner

I grab a stool and sip bitter coffee,

Studying the Cook

From the corner of my eye.

Elbows at rest on the counter top,

The Cook cups his face in razor claws,

And bares a Cheshire grin of canines.

Pointy chin and twisted horns

Bob up and down in fawning approval

As he chats with the Kitchen’s best customer.

Cackling over plates of bread and fish,

A tiny man in soiled robes

Hunches over breakfast.

Through mouthfuls of perch,

He eagerly recites a plot to torch

His latest failure.

IV

Lifting off I zoom

Past black holes,

Galactic super clusters,

And inky nebulas,

Warping space and time

In a mad jet to the end

Of the universe

Where only God

Can spend the night.

Ship’s portals turn frosty with my breath

As I squint into the blinding void,

Praying for omens.

Spent, lonely from light years

Of fruitless exploration

I cheat the worms And plunge my craft

Towards the nearest sun.

Retros ignite,

And blast through the corona

To shatter my bones

Into a zillion stardust atoms,

Where I am born again.

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