Survival (a wicked poem for rebellious, imaginative children)

when the great Monsters
come out of the sea,
will they eat you,
or will they eat me?

they can’t chomp us all
some must be refused
for they’ll need some people
to keep Them amused

what will you offer
our new overlords?
have you played with Momraths?
can you see the fnords?

your head is all stuffed up
with practical things
your darkness lacks beasties
your griffins lack wings

they’ll take just one look
and know what you are
can you guess your new role?
it’s “beefstake tartar”

But me with my mind
all cluttered with junk
so that my thoughts wade
through a green-purple gunk

(made of spectres
and smokedrops
and spiders
and Stuff)

(and nine million elves
dancing ’round
in the buff)–

I think I will please them
I know they’ll please me
those great freaky creatures
who’ll come from the sea

so say I’m just silly
I know I will ride
on the backs of Things
you’ll only see
from
inside.

Jeffrey Mach Written by:

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