The Dance of the Minotaur

It is unlikely a traipse taken lightly.
This smashing of hooves and horns.
Only to be told your dance is not allowed.
Only to be scolded for scat on the floor.
This wayward dance of the Minotaur.

When seen from a harbor's light.
When the smell of the weeds invades all.
This is the dime and time for dropping.
Down on your hands and twirling a jig.
Don't be fooled by the painting.
The ship isn't really at sea.

Here lie the layabouts fresh from prison.
Fresh with tales of blue skies abounding.
The matches smuggled and the smoke.
Wanton and wanted and watched.
Can we have an amen or just another joke.
The watched and weaned and whipped.
Bring the slop and feed the shackled swine.

Now the day is done and no one feels safe.
Is it a smile out of place or just a conspiracy.
Are there people in love with themselves.
Of course they are and they have calluses,
Hard worn skin patches to prove what love is.
Dare we go back and investigate when feeling lost.
Betrayed, betrayed, join the wolves at the doors.
The wolves whining, the whelped waxing.

Take the social services lady and remind her:
Do not step into the yard for there is trouble.
Yet she does and she does and she does anyway.
Stepped into the trouble and dares another word
To emanate forth from your degraded lips.
Go ahead, say anything and be found guilty.
Speak and then be slapped with fines aplenty.
Yours is not to say what rules govern they.
A notice will be sent and away go your kids.