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.

Myopic

The devil’s in the details
that’s why our vision fails
we can only face the truth so long
before our conscience rails

but who decides what’s wrong
consensus of the throng?—
deluded by what might have been
if we had just stayed strong,

denying purchase when
the darkling ducked its den
but then we’d have to own our guilt
for eyes to work again.

Status

God, I detest the rich
they’ve done naught but bring me grief
while picking away at every stitch
of my fuzzy faux belief,

but I also pity that class
for their power comes from their greed
and when they finally pass
they’re just other souls in need.

Overage

It’s not always wise to know math
imbalance can multiply wrath
when those at the top
relentlessly shop
while claiming they’re taking a bath.

Ben Abused

With an armload of assumption
I. M. Eager started work
and he said with utmost gumption
“You’ll never catch me shirk!”

His foreman, Richard Lackey
just smiled and said “Calm down,
it seems a little tacky
with you jumping all around.”

“I’m taking you to Gabby Blab
so you can get your start
she’s gaudy and she loves to gab
but competent and smart.

Just never tell her any dirt
you don’t want widely known
she has a tendency to blurt
it out (except her own).”

Her outfit was a shocking pink
affair with purple scarf
like something splattered in the sink
if Barney had to barf,

and I.M. found out right away
what foreman Lackey meant
before he even said good day
she indiscreetly leant

and whispered “Don’t believe that sot
he loves to toss ‘em back
his bloated liver’s full of rot
and his son is hooked on smack.”

She gave him countless forms to sign
while prodding pleasantly
if he had problems to opine
“You can always talk to me.”

she said, but he was scared to speak
so she rose and said “Let’s go,
you’ll be instructed for a week
on all you need to know.

Your trainer’s been here forty years
so listen to him well,
but if he grumbles plug your ears
his mind has gone to hell.”

They entered the production floor
and I.M. got enthused
until they went through one more door
and he met Ben Abused.

Now Ben was old, his back was stooped
his face was like a mask
but he was always first one scooped
to finish any task,

he sized up his new protégé
and said “I guess you’ll do,
we’ll make sure that you earn your pay
before the shift is through.”

And so it went for that first week
between I. M. and Ben
who told him (when he chose to speak)
his tales of other men.

“See that guy with the haggard face
his name is Kenny Last
with five kids in a two room space
and six approaching fast.”

They spied a girl with a bristly head
“That’s good old Sam Iam,
she never has much fun in bed
a ramrod with no ram.”

One day Mr. Lackey screamed
“These numbers make me sick!”
in Ben’s old eyes a twinkle gleamed
“that’s why we call him Dick.”

By Friday Ben hadn’t changed
he bustled to and fro
but when the afternoon bell clanged
he said “Come on, let’s go!

They got me a card with scratch-offs in it
along with a tiny cake
and Dickie gave me an extra minute
on this, my final break.”

He grudgingly beheld I. M.
and said, “You’ll do okay,
just keep your hopes to a minimum
our place is where we stay,

my father told me long ago
that rich folk were our betters
improving things with what they know,
domesticating debtors,

and all we have to try to do
is make what they can sell
for more than what they pay the crew
that labors in their hell.”

Then Ben paused to look around
his face morosely sad
this frantic place of constant sound
was all he ever had,

“The owner has a giant pad,
a mansion by the sea,
I don’t have much, my credit’s bad
one room’s enough for me,

he has his pets that tell him what
he really wants to hear,
the rest of us are nothing but
a soon discarded gear,

but all of that’s behind me now
this week has been my last,
I’ll wipe the moisture from my brow,
pick up my pole and cast.”

Within a month they all were told
that Ben was in the soil,
his tired heart at last went cold
from years of fruitless toil,

now I. M. goes to work each day
his life a structured blur,
he never has too much to say
the robot they prefer,

it doesn’t matter what he was
way back when he began,
amidst the grinding corporate buzz
you’ll never be a man.