A Pocket of Resistance: wild horse

wild horse

he roared up from the heart of the South
with a vengeance unsheathed,
spitting fire and brimstone
drinking hard, playing hard, living hard
with a lust for living, loving, and women;
he had come out of decorum, religion, and ethics
to go to sea
and
it all went away;
he did not distinguish from good and bad,
just grabbed what was there
and
reveled in what he had,
what they had
when he was part of a they.
he was just him
not out to hurt anyone,
coming a’roaring from the heart of the South
with a vengeance unsheathed,
spitting fire and brimstone
drinking hard, playing hard, living hard
with a lust for living, loving, and women
and
the sea life turned him
into a vagabond, a gadabout,
jumping from ship to ship,
sea to sea,
liberty to liberty
working hard, playing hard, living hard

and

then the years rolled by
diminishing
his roaring from the heart of the South
with a vengeance unsheathed,
spitting fire and brimstone
drinking hard, playing hard, living hard
with a lust for living, loving, and women

until finally

he left the sea,
settling down, more or less
with no more roaring from the South,
no vengeance unsheathed,
no spitting of fire and brimstone,
drinking socially, playing for fun,
the lusts of his life dimming, dimming,
giving some thought to
decorum, religion, and ethics
he had been taught growing up;

and

he became an old gentleman of the South
who could not return home
because he had learned too much,
but
turning into a raconteur,
telling his stories to all who would listen
about
his roaring from the heart of the South
with a vengeance unsheathed,
spitting fire and brimstone
drinking hard, playing hard, living hard
with a lust for living, loving, and women

and

the listeners just smiled politely,
pretending to listen.

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