17 years and the trail of the cicada

The earth holds many a miracle
The enduring march of time
They will be present everywhere
Watch the buggers climb
Feel the ground exploding
As thousands burrow clear
Enduring their life’s purpose
And generating fear

If you happen to be sun bathing
On a deck chair which felt best
And the earth begins erupting
In effect its one huge nest
Delivering creepy crawlies
Cicada’s by name
Who turn out in their millions
Thats their only claim to fame

In unison together a frantic
Path alive
In essence they are testing
If they can survive
Nirvana in their minds eye
As the huge trails wind and flow
And up a great green living tree
The bloody masses go

Imagine you must scarper quick
Leave the deck chair behind
Sky daddle out of that place fast
Or you might as well find
The armies swamping every single part of you
As on they go
Climbing up the varios trees
To mate, one huge great flow

Of horny rampant insects
Intent on having fun
On filling the guts of frogs and toads
And lizards by the ton
Turtles tortoises head down
Chewing insect meat
All these six legged grotesque forms
Trying to compete

As their legs rub together
They produce a rasping sound
Spray water on them and listen
Its like a human baby being drowned
As nymphs they float to muster
And gradually they will
Leave their ancestral skeletons
And, then just be still

17 years of contemplation
Working through it all
Getting into the moment
Answering the call
The cicada’s march to freedom
A relentless and frustrated trail

Don’t fuck with me
I heard one say
There’s a lizard with no tail

Who clearly had scoffed hundreds
And began to feel quite sick
The wings got in between his teeth
And he would rather miss that trick
For he had made a real pig of himself
And he didnt want to see
His teeth masked up in insect guts
In any quantity

Anymore cicada’s not for 17 Years
His teeth ached he felt half baked
If just one more appears

I will just go stir crazy
And as one just flew by
He fell out of the tree he did
And on the ground did lie
Featureless and lacking form
The poor soul then took heed
Burrowing back into the soil
Where The tree roots he would feed

Selfless lifeless given
To live to mate to die
To fertilise and realize
That on him we all rely

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