There, Stands He.....
Back then I dwelt with stone age man
In New Guinea's hothouse land
Long Centipedes of brick red hue
Aggressively pursuing you.
Rain, incessant rain on thee.
Wetly dripping from each tree
Iridescent longicorns
And scarab with elaborate horns.
Spider webs extension set
From tree to tree in lethal net....
Yet there stands he, in naked awe,
Watching, silently before,
Watching with obsidian stare
In aura, quite, beyond my care,
Puri-Puri, magic's spell,
Hangs suspended, mystic Hell.
Axe of stone from rugged cleft
From secret site of Ancient sect,
Hidden deep in forest glade
By several hues of darkened shade.
Axe of war in every way
Worn as talisman, they say.
Ground laboriously in stream
To razor edge by timeworn team
Axe of stone from eon past
A Neolithic work of art.
Yet there stands he, amid the green,
Silent, deadly, seldom seen.
Penis sheath standing erect,
Pig fat hair for earnt respect,
Calloused feet, jungle razed,
Fearless in his fearsome gaze.....
Neolithic son of man
From whence prehistoric time, began.
M.
Originally penned as a footnote for my worthy colleague HP Old Poet MK
as a reminiscence akin to the theme of his fine work in... "Immeasurable".
M.