Cheetah Cheetah
Always unsure about whether to tie the mind tight
straighten the lace
or stop on a rhyme
and turn about face,
zig a Zoro zag,
and remain as uncatchable
as an Elder Gazelle.
Ol’ chip hoof over here,
spoutin’ those tired Open Plain and simple truths again.
He did outrun a generation of goosesteppin’ cheetahs, after all.
Perhaps there’s more to his story
than his war-torn addled branches let on.
Sit with the Sage of the Savanna for a moment
let his old gruff really seep and creep into your cranial dreamcatcher.
It takes time to understand the stories of old,
so don’t rush the process and run off before the lesson is learned.
There are pertinent patterns to remember,
and you mustn’t forget their shape in the panic of the moment.
You will see the black-eyed stalker,
patient,
and unforgiving in its glare.
Waiting with an eternal patience
and a hole in its soul that’s just
your size.
Like a hungry magnifying glass searching for
the perfect burn,
when it’s gaze lands,
the moment is now to cry
Never
You can’t outpace your rival,
but you need not concern yourself with hoofin’ it to the promise land.
Your wit unwary,
your spirit sparked divine,
one drop of Devil drool hits the dirt
and you vanish in a single puff of Roadrunner smoke,
unpredictably footloose
and fancy free.
Your path remains unmatched
and the moment unattached
to any person, place, or thing
that might stick out like a speedbump
as you race from fate
and the bloody jaws of the Beast of Culture and All Things on your Heels.
Pick up the fucking pace and juke that spotted jackass.
The speed of a straight shooter is one thing,
the flexible agility of a mind on fire dodging the douse of death
is quite another.
Time itself will always be the ultimate salivating predator
patiently waiting
in a some secret bush around an unknown corner of our lives,
but the war is not without its battles,
and everyday there will be freshly fanged ferocity,
claws as crisp as the first time they caught a kiss from the sun
and winked a gleam back to that cosmic father
as if to say,
“He’s mine.”
But we know it’s tricks, and our legs are strong.
We wouldn’t be here as heroes of the Grey Prey if we didn’t have some sense as to how to maneuver our asses out of danger when the clock struck dinner time.
Keep your ears perked and follow my lead.
I can’t help you escape,
you must chart your own course when the time comes.
But we will keep our eyes slung over each others shoulders.
We will watch for the hungry eyes waiting
for our souls to sprint straight
and trip
over our own insecurities.
Stay close,
and stay alert,
and if I give you the signal,
Run
.
.
.
