Mountain top!

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The mountain top is too high to climb

The only pilot that could fly over and hoover

And safely touch ground with no ado or  murmur, Is an eagle with wingspan

Three times longer than  its body distance

From head to tail.

It is a treacherous and anfractious escarpment,

Warped with maelstrom currents.

And I am no eagle with precision eye sight

And landing gear to manoeuvre.

Surmount I will

Only time reveals.

From where I stood feet tight,

on  an edge of a cliff’s armseye,

aeries everywhere in full sight,

Raptorial anxious fledgling chicks to shield.

That not being the only threat,

I can’t stay for long equipoised

The ground below swerves and moves,

Discombobulated,

Driving me down to Plummet.

Either I have is to climb down the precipice

But down the droke, I see piles of corpses,

Reposed.

Whatever resources I am left with

I must  summon to utilise

Meagre though it might be to gain pride

Walking on a knife-edge,

I must try,

what a choice!

survive or die.

Challenge the  TREACHEROUS Wynd

Life in suspension is not a way out,

I have tried it but it bears no fruit,

Come what destiny awaits

It can not be worse than Ancoberian brute

That has kept me trampled under foot.

Surmount I will

Only times reveals.

I cannot for sure tell,

But I need to break my fear,

tackle the mountain slope

to stand at the top

Come hell or high water.

Slave masters

Have no hearts to empathise

Nor do they have ears to listen

You might ask,

Why do I want to climb the mountain?

Well, it is to regain my freedom

As the mountain is on the way,

Blocking the momentum.

If I can’t bust, pulverised to dust,

I must navigate its intricate crust.

Likewise if I stood at the top

The slave master chase would stop

For if he were to try to climb

His paunch would definitely pop.

Belay Ambelay

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