Living social amidst
crime infested urban jungle
bumping uglies cheek to jowl
analogous fate being housed in jail
escape room of great outdoors
spurred subject matter in question
to journey to hinterlands
far from madding crowd
of Fort Lauderdale
woodsman ever watchful for Centaur

the body and legs of a horse
and with the head,
arms, and torso of a male
equipped with crossbow as scare tactic
shaft piercing flesh
no worse than nine inch nail
vehemently decried nasty,
short and brutish beastie boys
Greek mythological character
come to earth as animal savior
considered louts unfairly advantageous

killing wildlife as deal breaker
for uber twittering overscale
trespassers slaying innocent creature
no matter game good n plenti
eco consciousness mindedness
prompted inner conflict to prevail
as ace archer held taut
likened to nock fletched arrow in quiver
or shaking dandering quail
caught in carnivorous crosshairs,

where hunter doth regale
and remember to embellish maxim
one bird in the hand
worth two in the bush
opportunistically praises quarry
as divine intervention
after heavens he did intently surveil
Brief Mane n' Tail
shampoo tall (tell) tale
as Jonah felt when he got
swallowed by a whale.

Once upon a time
in a previous life of course,
anonymous wordsmith tour de force
yours truly (me)
remembers being a horse,
the handsome fine companion
of one Norwegian bachelor farmer,
who lived near Lake Wobegon,
which Minnesota enclave
analogous to Old Norse

country, anyway while
subsequently reincarnated
as beast of burden animal
(said steed synonyms
courtesy Roget's Thesaurus),
with flowing and glistening mane
and tail cuz lovely and neighborly lass
regularly shampooed former and latter,
nevertheless, I escaped captivity
and found myself in a fate far worse.

In present incarnation
shackled (née yoked
like an oxen to a plow)
manned courtesy Piers Plowman
to husbandry duties
after pledging troth and wed
as generic bipedal hominid thoroughbred
**** sapiens punk rocker,
I plod and tread
along boulevard of broken dreams,

fast as greased lightning, I sped
but these spindleshanks
ain't quick enough,
now as an old enfeebled
gentleman well read
luscious brown locks
adorn noggin of me Mister Ned
existential crisis offset
washing hair (applying
Mane n' Tail shampoo

the only pride and joy)
a wishy washy talking head
until these lovely bones become dead,
which cremains of min
slated to get dispersed and scattered
to the four winds
where ashes will be absorbed
buzzfeeding courtesy Horse Chestnut
purpose driven life
covering, functioning, and incorporating
self analogous to bedspread.