Brave Pioneers
Clandestine prairie schooners sail ‘cross to sanctuary,
Searching for a foothold, finding no hope or beacon
As destined to failure as the passing desert estuaries
Yet winding through the wilderness, from their dreams not
woken
The switchblades of verdure brood crude vicious curses
Harmoniously flaunting a sound cruel and haunting
With each gust of wind their bitter loyalty reverses
Listen to the groans of those whose life was soon wanting
Wagon wheel-spokes speak, creaking creepily in
remembrance
Ropes taut and sails furled the prairie schooner’s breath
spent
The Dragon screams wearily, seeking a wild and fiery
vengeance
Filthy stream of curses in the storm, hell-bent on
torment
Forfeited profit is the product of God’s wrath
Grapeshot whipping swathes in the wildfires raging
Molten cash crops embalmed in smoldering bath
Raining the wet breath of death ‘till Autumn’s moist
caging
The winds whirl and oxen bellow, sailors straining and
helplessly praying
Betwixt ransom and maelstrom the ship twists an ignoble
wrestle
Gunpowder roars and fires crackle as rigging and tackle
tangle whilst belaying
And yet the pounding forge passes releasing the
battle-proven vessel
Waterless ocean, yet fearlessly as open
Brown bleached grasses strewn dead like dry bones
Cloned Davy Jones’ locker from their aquamarine brethren
These wave breakers lap at the strapped mountains grown
Glorious Terra Firma is stern with trespassing
plantations
Welcoming visitors with cold hearted hospitality
The riches within are considered temptation
And forever beyond reach, just a mental reality
Nevertheless, nightmares still remain, waiting in the
depths to stir the beast
Ascertaining the pain to prepare amongst the survivors
cavalier
Taking care where they travel, they trod with faces
creased
Yet this is home to these people, these brave pioneers
