Christine Phillips | + Follow Poet |
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The Zeal

I have counted to ten a hundred times but I cannot get this thing off my mind, it has consumed my space and has taken over every aspect of the human race. It started out as fun and everyone was excited to go along but when the mercenaries came along the infiltration was real and discontent pushed up my zeal. 

 I didn’t like the way things were going and how the barnyard rooster was crowing, the ducks were walking too often in the yard and as you wink your eyes, they start a brawl. 

I tried to keep my composure but the three-ton elephant kept standing on my shoulder, dragging the morning around the space, enlarging the weight on my face and sometimes I have to struggle to get the word out.  Sometimes I stare at the screen and interlock with my dream with courage in my feet I was determined to compete. 

The early morning rooster that sits on top of the roof crows exactly on my time to get me confused. I had to work above the noise and I had to ignore the rooster to survive. And when the ceremony is done destiny had them on the run and so they crossed the street with an axe to cut down the big tree. 

I am adapted to organization and consistency but sometimes in the middle of the day, the big bug land on top of the roof spewing s bad energy through the roof and dropping it in the ceiling, and I have to dig deep into my soul to maintain my balance and find new meaning. 

I don’t have the things I need to survive  and so I have to struggle every moment to stay alive, they want to take away my pride, and so I have to work with all my might to chase the bad vibes away. 

As one groups dies out another one rises up from the dirt. Their habit and principles are not right and you have to battle against the night to do what is right. 

 The ballot box is sitting on the hill, and this is not time to keep still, if you are not satisfied with the bill you have got to change the Pajamas and start wearing frocks and vote with all the energy that is spreading across the valley.  

You have got to find pantyhose and wear it if you feel bold. You must find the bad end of the steel and cut it with all your zeal, then you must knock on every door and take them to the ballot box sitting on top of the hill. 

 I can still feel the energy burning inside me and a miracle walking before me and the door that was bolted up for many years was finally opened exposing the big capsule that is draining your finance. Ships and boats, drones and weapon that will turn you insane and the energy drink that will make you think, was sitting in an apparatus staring at me.

Copyright © Christine Phillips | Year Posted 2023

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