Poem #238 - This poem is a celebration of me and my muse.
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Joshua Brown
Tare. Tare.
The scythe flys.
The wheat falls.
I am a modern man and my mind flits
Like a butterfly it flits
But, imagine the most dangerous flitting butterfly
Raining down from the sky,
Wings walloping the wind,
Eyes on fire,
Weapon in my greedy little paws
Against the men with full swords
That are holding hostage other men
That their women may anally rape
And bring to nothing the will of
The evolutionary dead-ends.
And why I am angry?
Why is my laser pointed at their foreheads?
Why am I descending, cleaving and darting?
In search of my flower
The delicate rosy petals call me
They stand in gentle awe
Waving at the sun
Smiling as I smile back
The doorway but a veil to remove
As I approach her there
Her eyes glisten from the morning dew.
Rage to tear against being forgotten
For I knew that life was fleeting
The flower faded and grew heavy
For loneliness is too much to bear
As if in some science lab being watched
As if I were the flower
As if I were the
My mind drifts
For I cannot bear to think
Of the heavy weight I put on others
By bringing to mind the possibility of my own fragility
I cannot be weak
I must be violent
To protect my garden
And the dead men piled up
In the garbage heaps beyond the hill
Their bodies bare to nature
But not to the eyes of my beloved flower
The hill was enough
And the deaths were enough
And the jarring ringing in my ear was enough
And her eyes flashed back
Because I left her alone
A flower in the garden
With no butterfly
I circled the wooded area
Looking back
Looking forward
And when I saw no enemies
I returned
And day after day I returned
To dance with my flower
And her smile
And none knew that it was a
Woman's boy
Who through gritted teeth
Had murdered his enemies
And built a wall
And found a wonderful woman to love
Without his father, or father's father to heel
And learned to build a family
By the thrashes of society
Whose dysfunction was marred by
Despair and abandonment.
But I made it out alive.
And, oh! that my sons and daughters
Might hear the mighty tales of victory
Over the dragon and his wispy ghouls
Because for 7 years I felt my neck crushed
But now, I felt THEIR necks in my grasp,
THE ENEMY
#poem #poetry #romance
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📅 Written April 15, 2026
📍 Written in Denver, Colorado at the Denver International Airport
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Fight in the shade.
a Joshua Brown poem #238 "Eagle, Flower, Siren"
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