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Dragon Blood



He sits
on the edge of the world
unconcerned with the
dissimulation of
polite society
busy little bee's
bouncing off reality
living the dream he
so valiantly fought to protect

he sits there quietly
saturated in urine
manufactured of
white port fueled
by
memory of war

contemplating
nothing
invisible to most
But still
a blight upon their sensibilities and
a horrid fright to the eyes when seen

cold hungry and shivering
they could give a shit to his welfare

they cogitate his insanity
his own undoing

and that smell
the smell of death
lurking waiting to pounce
on yet another of society's outcast

putrid sores
covers flesh uncovered
where gnats and flies feast
and maggots dine beneath the skin and
his breath
his breath smells of Dragon Blood

do we even know what Dragon Blood is?
apparently he does

two tours in Vietnam
and a Purple Heart for bravery

yet he sits on the edge of the world
bravely trampled underfoot of apathy
absent of coalition

he wishes
only to be left alone

to dance in the pain
of degredation
and waltz in the face of death
until God calls him to reckoning

he will sit there
on the edge of the world
listening to
the mundane idiocracy of those
who wander by

left to his own maundering
invisible that is

until
the Olympics
come to town



For those on the streets who has been cast out - and forgotten.
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Submitted by Odonko-ba on January 12, 2016

1:12 min read
128 Views

Odonko-ba

I am a moody anti-social introvert. Meaning: I Trust No One. My best friend is myself. My companion ~ my dog. I write because I must. It is my life line. My Beacon in a world cloaked in darkness, steadfast upon destruction, blinded by their own selfish needs...I write because, I must, to maintain my sanity in an otherwise insane world. I might not be the smartest apple to fall from the tree but believe me the resonance of my impact resoundingly reverberates the tree, stirring emotions and messaging egos in quiet retribution. Welcome to my humble sanctum more…

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