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Rebel Rebel
by Nikos Laios
2019-10-11 05:01:51
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He was a rebel
With a cynical vision
Of the world and roamed
The rusted ghost towns
And broken factories
On his journeys through life.

prometheus_bound_400He poured libations
Onto the red earth and
With a packet of cigarettes
Rolled up in his short
Sleeve rode on his
Fat motorcycle with the
Dust clouds rising up
Behind him like a sacrifice
To the sky with his
Bandana flapping
In the breeze.

He tasted the bitter
Salt and stale beer
In his mouth as the
Rolling tumbleweeds
Smacked into the
Flapping corrugated
Iron sheets and
The old chicken wire.

He avoided towns
And cities and the
Sky scrapers and
Cubed buildings
With their blinking
Flashing lights glowing
Against the dark nighttime sky.

These cities
Were filled with
Steel and glass towers;
Giant chicken coups
For dead souls,
Slaves who wore
Their mortgages like
Suicide belts and
He detested them for it
And avoided them
At all costs.

He had worked on
Oil rigs, sheep stations
And merchant ships and
Had a stone shack up in
The hills and would
Die there when his time

Among the fir trees
And waterfalls flowing
Into cavernous lakes,
With the soaring golden
Tipped eagles and bears
And wisps of pungent
Smoke rising up from
Ancient stone chimneys
As the villagers warmed
The small hands of
The young children.

They called him a
Rebel with a cynical vision
Of the world who roamed
The rusted ghost towns
And broken factories
On his journeys through life,
But he was in fact a realist,
A modern Dante who had descended
Into the circles and tasted hell and had
Found his redemption,
His paradise.

It was real,
It was authentic
And it was his.

He opened the packet
And took out a cigarette,
Threw some more chestnuts
Onto the fire and listened to
The babbling voices of the old
People gathered around the fireplace
With their souls dancing against
The flames entrancing everyone with
Their stories, and the children with their
Open mouths and wide eyes
Listening intently to every word
With the aromas and smells of baked bread
And beef stew wafting up and mingling with 
The nutty flavours of the crackling chestnuts.

His mind wandered over
His journeys through the rusted
Earth and ghost towns, the
Steel towers and empty souls
And was glad he was a rebel
With a cynical vision for
It had served him well and
Nourished his authenticity
With the rebellion and
Passion and freedom
That he so craved.


With a digital drawing from Nikos Laios


Check Nikos Laios' EBOOK
Ida & Her Magic Camera
is online now and you can download for FREE HERE!


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