How Dare You? Poem by Tony Cemaluk

How Dare You?

How dare you
enter a road, a compound where no man walks, lives,
the owner you don't even know?
Chasing shadows of a good-for-nothing man,
a weakling without prospects,
who you left abandoned groping in wood for your selfish, gluttonous good.

Your intent, singular and collective, wore no mask
under your perceived multi-mask,
like an ostrich hiding.
Against you, the table turned.
The bubble burst.
Naturally.
And the remnant masks fell.
Nudity ensued. Stark nakedness.
Unclothedness, as in birthday apparel.

The big masquerade, wedge-like wood mounted,
finally, suddenly shook for good, took a bow, to rest.
To avert the approaching avalanche, the thickening tornado,
the hurrying hurricane, and the merciless de-masking
of the mask behind the masks of messes,
as lastly hinted by the unknown, know-not-good monster
on holocaust mood cum mode.
Your stolid human wedge, as every mortal,
on seeing the impending dangers, shook,
dodged wedging further,
and took a bow of honour to rest
after toiling, pleading, to cover the massive mess —
you messed. Clearly came to nought. Nothing good.

You forgot the law:
'Cast your bread upon the waters...'
Givers never lack.
Givers never collect humiliation
of poverty of the pocket and upstairs.

Go now.
Pick the bruises you planted.
Lick the oozes, too.
The way your ilks crumble.