Limitations

I had my bite of apple
and found it rather tart
for why should someone grapple
between their life and art?

The difference is the boundaries
as one has none at all
within our fragile foundries
we crawl or freely fall.

Con

'Are you there? Say a prayer for the pretender
who started out so young and strong only to surrender.'
- The Pretender, Jackson Browne


My brain is like mush
and the harder I push
there’s more of it spattering out
so I sit on my tush
and with a great whoosh
expel this malingering doubt—
it’s bound to come back
for life has a knack
of mocking us thoroughly when
we’re on the right track
but then double back
to the comforting call of our pen.

Mortimer's Morsel - X

His fame was like a concrete cell
diminishing in size
with every new distraction that arose,
if he had known the hectic hell
that infamy supplies
he would have left the crowing for the crows,
he wondered how much longer he could pose

and knew it wouldn’t be that long
before he finally flipped
and started screaming “Get away from here!”
imagine how the docile throng
would stand there lacquer-lipped
and maybe some would even shed a tear.
He wished that he could simply disappear

just like his buddy Augustine
(that no one seemed to miss)
without whom there would not have been a quest
when they returned he’d ring the queen
in hopes of finding bliss
by putting her good humor to the test
with a slightly unconventional request.

And now outside the throne room stands
a regal looking bust
of Augustine, The Founder of The Chip,
remembered fondly through the lands
as someone ants could trust
he taught them how to give the cook the slip
and now they bring back goodies every trip,

while Mortimer goes out each day
in search of something new
content to be a loner with a scheme,
he smiles as he makes his way
beyond the masses who
may think his life’s as bland as it must seem
but a dreamer’s bound to have another dream.

Mortimer's Morsel - IX

“NO!” cried Mortimer in shock
his tiny mind upset,
unable to accept what he had seen
he had to hunker down to block
the still impending threat
but only one thought bounced within his bean—
‘Where in the world was Augustine?’

When the danger seemed at last to pass
and Mortimer could walk
he quickly scrambled down to claim his prize
he gazed upon the chocolate mass
and felt his muscles balk
at thoughts of moving anything that size
but luckily he knew a bunch of guys.

He hurried home to tell his tale
which no one would accept
until he showed the sample he had saved
and then they formed a work detail
excluding the inept
for there were other horrors to be braved
obtaining this confection that they craved.

And all the while that they marched
the strangest thing occurred
it seemed he suddenly had countless friends
he looked at some with eyebrows arched
they never ere proffered
the caring pleasantries an ally sends
he found himself confused by these new trends,

and truth be told a bit annoyed
he had no time to think
for someone new was always standing there
pretending they were overjoyed
or swaying on the brink
of ecstasy if only he would share
a moment of his day to meet their stare.

Mortimer's Morsel - VIII

“I guess it’s time to head on back
and offer up our plea.”
said Mortimer in quite a lower pitch
he paused to contemplate the crack
and wondered silently
why every dream must overcome a glitch
and that was when they felt the morsel twitch.

While just above their heads the cook
who had some rare spare time
inspected all the floors before he mopped
and he was glad he’d had a look
for ants were starting to climb
up through a tiny crack and must be stopped
so he quickly grabbed the vacuum that was propped

in the corner with other cleaning tools
to promptly whisk away
those pests that came to infiltrate his place
for sanitation topped the rules
a kitchen must obey
and he would not be labeled a disgrace
those ants would all be gone without a trace!

But Mortimer and Augustine
were keeping so intent
on moving their colossal candy treat
they didn’t hear that cruel machine
or sense the change in scent
until it was too late for a retreat
so close to their campaign being complete

for through their fierce tenacity
with every little shove
they’d found a way to tackle their despair,
then suddenly the chip flew free
while somewhere from above
they felt a force that tugged at every hair,
then Augustine was sucked into the air.

Mortimer's Morsel - VII

“Well, all we can do is try our best.”
responded Augustine
who picked a side and hastily began,
then Mortimer jumped in there lest
his idleness was seen
as a way to be complacent for a span
while taking all the credit for the plan.

They pushed and pulled and scratched and dug
for all that they were worth
and still they couldn’t seem to make it budge
and if they did they’d yet to lug
its monumental girth
then Augustine, remembering his grudge,
deduced that he had been too quick to judge

his fellow ant that liked to dream
he wasn’t just a bum
determination bristled in his soul
and now that they had formed a team
perhaps the time had come
for him to realize a greater role
and force that stubborn windfall through the hole.

Their efforts drained the both of them
until they had to stop
and take a look at what their work had wrought,
if only they could get that gem
to wiggle free and drop
but it stayed stuck no matter how they fought,
of course they couldn’t help but feel distraught.

“Well Mortimer what’ll we do?”
said Augustine at last,
“Do we stay and fight or go round up the corps?”
And in his heart Mortimer knew
that things would go so fast
if he sought help to come and fetch his score
besides, that’s what worker ants were for.

Mortimer's Morsel - VI

and that was when old Augustine
decided to appear
to spring the trap he’d deviously laid
his carefully rehearsed routine
was credibly sincere
enough that Mort was easily made
to think that he was there to lend his aid.

“Hey Mortimer my man
what’s going on
and what’re you doing wandering out this far?
You know the unofficial ban
our kind has put upon
this place, but still, here you are
did you find a way to make yourself a star?”

“Oh Augustine, I’m glad you’re here!”
Mortimer exclaimed,
“I need your help to get some food I’ve found.”
The trust he showed his petty peer
made Augustine ashamed,
convincing him to drop the axe he’d ground,
the anthill’s need for food was more profound.

‘What food could there be?’ thought Augustine
‘My tale was just a ploy
to get him out where no one else will go.’
His curiosity was keen
his character quite coy
until they stood beside that ghostly glow
then he saw the chip and whispered “Whoa!”

“Exactly.” Uttered Mortimer
a quiver in his voice
as both of them were wondering what to do,
“We’ve got to trim, if you concur,
the edging of your choice
and then perhaps, with luck, we’ll pull it through.
Does anything I’ve said sound good to you?”

Mortimer's Morsel - V

except for Mort who quickly sped
directly towards The Gap
scenarios of triumph constantly
exploding in his wishful head
until he had to slap
himself with fierce authority
so he could fully function properly.

Approaching the forbidden place
he chose to take it slow
and really have a careful look around,
he inched along until his face
was tickled by the glow
then jumped from being startled by a sound
and that was when his destiny was found,

for wedged within the crack he saw
a mountain of delight
dark brown and smelling mmm so very sweet
but how could his small digits claw
it free? Oh what a plight!
He struggled to obtain the monstrous treat,
defiantly denying his defeat.

At last he had to take a rest
and reassess his plan
there was just no way he’d get that thing to move
he’d have to head back to the nest
and mobilize his clan
he’d need their help to clear that dreaded groove
besides, he had nothing left to prove.

He scraped a sample from his prize
so others would believe
and rapidly began the trek back home
he was slightly rattled by its size
and hoped they could retrieve
the goods, while somewhere in his tiny dome
an anxious insect mind began to roam,

Mortimer's Morsel - IV

as there was trouble on the hill
and everyone was tense
their source of food grew scarcer every day,
despite their uncontested skill
at combing the immense
they found their hunting parties had to stray
much farther and farther and farther away.

An agitated Queen decreed
that everybody’s share
was being cut to stretch their short supply,
they had to have enough to feed
the young within their lair
or else the colony would simply die,
so everyone was searching low and high.

Amidst the madness Mortimer
continued his crusade
convinced that he had found his time to shine,
there was no force that could deter
this dogged renegade,
he felt his spirit spurring on his spine
and kept repeating “Destiny is mine!”

but Augustine was also sure
his fate was realized
discovering the perfect place indeed
to tempt that dimwit Mortimer
(oh how he’d be surprised)
when Augustine jumped out with blazing speed
to craftily commit his craven deed.

One day as Mortimer prepped to leave
he heard a din outside
and saw a mob surrounding Augustine,
who begged someone to please believe
the bounty he had spied
way out beyond The Gap, that vile ravine
but no one had the guts to check the scene,

Mortimer's Morsel - III

Seems ants are tougher than you might think
and Augustine more than most
that’s why so many feared to face his ire
he’d best the strongest in a blink
(at least that was his boast)
but no one had the courage to inquire
if he was just a big unchallenged liar.

He’d listen to Mortimer babble on
(while doing half his work)
each word inciting anger in his heart
obsessively he’d dwell upon
each duty Mort would shirk
until he feared his mind would blow apart
and that’s what made his vengeful plotting start.

‘I’ll get that guy, just wait and see’
He’d think so no one heard,
‘By taking time to titillate my prey
and play upon his fantasy,
then Morty is assured
to take the path that carries him my way
so I can finally make that slacker pay!’

He pictured every type of pain
he’d joyously inflict
on Mortimer once snared within his trap
and how his screams would be in vain
despite the way he kicked
for Augustine would take him past The Gap
where no one should be rescuing that sap.

For ants would shun that scary place
where blinding light shone down
and awful noises issued piercingly,
but what could make his heartbeat race
enough that fear would drown,
what bait would lure him on enticingly?
The fiend would have to simmer patiently

Mortimer's Morsel - II

His name was Mortimer the ant
a laborer by trade
but all he cared to do was fantasize
about his chance, albeit scant
to tout a find he’d made
becoming someone ants could idolize
perhaps with statues honoring his prize.

But all the other workers jeered
when Mortimer began
to ramble on about his crazy scheme
they knew that he was really weird
so patronized his plan
which only made his anxious noggin team
with hope that he would realize his dream.

“You’ll see” he’d say with eyes alight
“I’ll find a thing we need
and everyone will say my name with love.”
“Oh sure you will.” they’d all recite
“You’re destined to succeed
and lead us to a paradise above!”
while snorting with each adolescent shove.

But Mortimer was so consumed
with his unlikely fate
he never even noticed their contempt
or when his fellow workers fumed
because he made them wait
and left his working area unkempt,
what made that joker think he was exempt?

Well one such worker so inclined
was quite the brutish sort
and couldn’t fight the urge to intervene,
the other workers that had whined
felt sorry for old Mort
for now he had to deal with Augustine,
the meanest ant their kind had ever seen.

Mortimer's Morsel - I

One day a cook was working hard
preparing someone’s meal
and had to get an item from the rack,
he reached beyond a can of lard
and bumped a bag whose seal
released a single morsel from the pack
to bounce across the floor into a crack.

“I don’t have time for this right now
there’s much too much to do!”
the busy chef emphatically exclaimed,
while wiping moisture from his brow
he stirred a pot of stew
that bubbled on the stove top as it flamed
to calm the stomachs growling to be tamed.

But once he finally locked the door
and every dish was clean
the tired man went home to take a rest.
He’d swept and mopped the dirty floor,
the usual routine,
yet in his haste had failed to do his best
and thus began a worker’s fateful quest.

For down below the floor there churned
a colony of ants
each smaller than a tiny grain of sand
and one such ant, though slightly spurned
by some amazing chance
would soon discover something very grand
becoming quite renowned throughout the land.

An anthill is a busy place
that needs a lot of food
in fact they go to search for it each day,
whenever they detect a trace
the bounty is pursued
by workers who live only to obey
except this one whose dreams got in the way.

Intro

Hello,

How is everyone today? Hope all is well. I read a quote recently by one of my favorite poets - Robert Frost - which simply said "Freedom is being bold." Unfortunately my mind is strange and sometimes it gets stuck in repeat mode when something strikes a chord, which this quote did.

So I've been pondering what it is that I can do to be bold (as I could use some freedom) and decided it would be to share a long story/poem I completed this year after almost 3 years of pecking away. Normally I would sit on this until I had a chance to find an interested publisher, but a recent string of rejection letters has convinced me that this is the way to go. If any publishers read it and like it, my email is in my profile.

Typically when writing a longer work, I prefer to break the story into sections with different rhythms and rhyme schemes to avoid monotony, but with this one I kept it the same structure for 50 verses, is it too much? I don't know, you tell me. if nothing else I at least proved to myself that I could do it. I will post it in ten posts of five verses each so people can take their time reading it - Enjoy!

Laden

At what extreme does righteousness
become a big self-serving mess?
We all have dreams we wish to ply
including those where people die
though few will openly confess
the rush they feel when bullets fly,

propelled by an ungodly lust
to persecute the less-than-just
or anyone whose claim to fame
exhibits an intent to maim,
but won’t remanding them to dust
encumber us the same?

Without a Leg

I saw a spider creeping as I rushed
my way upstairs, and chose to let it be,
anticipating karmic clemency,
but coming down it was (as hope was) crushed.