Black waves throb slowly
In an almost emotional rhythm
The succor of warmth is an all-encompassing Mother
To be savored whenever possible
And made all the more sweet by its infrequency
He gathers the pleasures afforded him
But casts a watchful eye, knowing
That the congenital wariness of the banal
Is relentless -- control is important
The hunger for sharing is strong
But honesty is dangerous
It brings attention, interest and worst of all
Conjecture
Leading possibly to awareness
Which will not do
Only by supreme effort does the Mutant tread
The circumscribed pathways of his captors
Torn between the awareness of tiny eyes
And an atavistic compulsion to fly free
To wallow in the sunshine
But the creepers of the universe know
There is a balance to be struck
Conventionality must be simulated
Though never embraced
Risk it.....risk it.....NO
For the stigma of Failure to Fit
Hovers always, like an annoying insect
Ultimately abiding
Waiting for just one wrong move

He knows it is folly to be here
But this liquid heat is far too urging
To be rudely dismissed
All too soon, the east will explode
In a blazing fury of fusion
Kick-starting once again
A harried hive of humanity
Where calculated indifference wears a rubber nose
And the Social Herd
Insulated in their tailored silk envelopes
From the gaping wounds of animal existence
Patiently stand in line
For a chance to be measured for chains
Or perhaps the opportunity to have the pain
Cut short --
By the high-velocity snort of disapproval
From a cold blue nostril

As the Mutant dries himself, he smiles

Then cries, quietly
 

                                                 -- Lyle Johnson

  ©Copyright 1998 by Lyle Johnson