series1bk3.3.1

 

With tedious obedience, building bridges over muddied puddles, I'd slaved so gravely my behaviour had shuddered to a muddled halt - till I threw this gruesome rule-book sky high, trying instead to fly. Bred to tread reality's sordid boards, I'll shed those shackles for a slackened attention to facts, and track a rainbow's train of fantasy, panning to grand vision of heroic feats in battle. I'll rattle a sabre in my hollow scabbard, bellowing yells of cavalier bravado, whooping like a stupid cowboy, with reckless disregard for farcical, sham distributions of death.      For war is just a festival of fun      when blanks (instead of bullets) fill the guns.