PROPHETS OF THE WILD/SNAKE AWAY (Poem)

Blades Of Grass Tickle Each Other
And I'm Paralysed
By Their Snickers 
By The Rustle Song Latched On To The Wind's Doodle Of A Back

They Dance To Their Own Back And Forth Laughter
An Ebb And Flow From Which I Learn
I'm Not Alone In The Company They Preclude Amusement

The Other Fellow Bloviates With The Silence
As Do I
Both Of Us, Smiling
Pro Forma At Our Faite Accompli

Both Of Us, Gung-Ho To Have Got The Dog Whistle
Before Our Witty Wheaty Hosts Chucked And Chuckled The Apercu 

"There's A Monster Lurking About
Lithe And Traversing The World On A Different Axis"

Our Self Appointed Agent Provocateurs
Burst At The Seams
With Hysteria
Beholden To The Cacophony
And,
Bespoke To Their Subjects

We Both Run, From Guilt By Association
Association By Guilt, From Both, We Run  
And From Each Other,
We Are Associated By A Guilt
The Guild That Yields, We Are Guilty Of Yielding
Both The Guilt 
And The Yield 
Of Our First Kill