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I Wish I Weren'T a Centipede

I WISH I WEREN’T A CENTIPEDE
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS




I wish I weren’t a centipede, a lowly arthropod
I need a transformation into something much more mod
To obtain status, with a much higher species standing
Not be straddled with an enervating task so demanding
I get no praise for my control nor multiple coordination
None can match my velocity nor perfect synchronization
Hard work, sweat and practice, I never need to hedge
Only I can manage and direct hundred pairs of legs

There are numerous phoney imposters of me
The most common, of course, the millipede
We both scurry about after the sun goes down
I’m known as a deadly killer, he’s just a clown
And when he is frightened, curls up and plays dead
Me, when confronted, a venom I’ll promptly embed
He subsists  eating dead leaves and rotting flesh 
Me, I go hunting I like to devour my protein fresh

I’m really scary,  so I stay hidden during the day
But at night is when I’m active searching out for prey
I’ve got a couple of pincers, positioned near my head
I reach out to find you, once located, you are dead
That’s my routine, residing in wet n gloomy sites
Venturing out at dusk to procure a couple of bites
I’m not a gourmet almost anything fits my diet
A mouse, a rat, an ant. If its warm I’ll surely try it
  
Each day mimics itself, an unremarkable occurrence
Repeating the same sequence doesn’t really make much sense
After due deliberation, I have decided to fill my day
With thoughts of being a condor and just aviate away
I will soar over the Andes riding endless thermal drafts
View the Nazca Plains, take in the mysterious graphs
Alas, it’s a pipe dream, that each night I’ll need to cede
I’ll scurry out, repeat the hunt, cause I’m just a centipede

Copyright © John Arribas | Year Posted 2019

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