Deo Iuvante

I meant to say that this is one of my posts where I set-out to sing formless, rhapsodic prose and end up with wordspew. It's served “Bob Dylan” well, and shuts-up people in the office especially if you throw in a few Greek, Latin or German words. If you know what they mean, um so besser but if they sound frische, who's to care?

A disease having no distinct border between sick and well is a strange beast.

Strange too, are the beasts who deny their malady.

Stranger still, are those without, that wait in hope or avidly strive for most virulent inoculation or have to content themselves with woe-begotten 'ease gifted kindly by the Stricken.

So, ah... you fratboy-fruits Gimp-hags, or something?
Darting within and without this stricken herd are the predators interleaving the gaieties of the camp followers of the Fool's Circus as they bumble and fall with feign limp.

And the jackals.

The brain-sick jackals of old-age, their muscle strong, but their teeth yellow, blunted & broken.. Even a herd of pariahs have their out-casts. And the Jackals feed sucking life from the sickest.

They are always there for them. A parasitic-hominid geno-crime, their sub-sonical growling unsettles the Fools but, they have their use. Garbage men are unreliable visitors on the jungle.

The ringmasters are equally ridiculous, but unimpeachably enfranchised as they loft their stricken whelped or the old, borrow the indigent's as their own for the Holy Day; their festival bracelet to wave at the gatekeeps.

2 Replies:

Norton Gunthorpe said...

Now, your questions:

« Who are the beasts?
« Who are the Fools?
« Who are their camp followers and why?
« Who are the Jackals?
« Who are the Gatekeeps?
« Who is the Ringmaster?
« Who are the Rubbernuckers?

Have we missed anyone of consequence?

Norton Gunthorpe said...

Now rewite is to fit in somewhere in one Shakespeak's Histories. Or something with witches.

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