Prophecy - Peter Howson / by Laurence Fuller

Poem by Laurence Fuller - Art by Peter Howson


They bring prophecy in waves of mankind. I’ll brush down the wind tunnels of golden birch bark pieces looted and completed. Now’s the time to seize the time, our time, your time, desire fed fat paltry peaches chicken coups and joyous roars in the minefields of hungry dogs.

Earn your keep for when that moment comes you’ve been wrenching those bars inward, pumping levers between clenched jaws of healthy molars.

Rally those wars together beyond meek who cower stagger back for rolling warriors of distant armies forcing the clammers of feeling to the rushing dawn. Hammer muscle hammer, shatter big bad men, fight tonight bury dead warriors tomorrow they’re ill and blood jewels, destinies of gold to the day it gets faster and more than all it promises this day for the happy few on the mountainside it’s all for the taking. 


Furious to the charge they with bold adventure in their hearts see those bells ringing their time to the call of prophecy.

The mind blocks the path to the guidance of their guts, drawn back and back to reveal a great adventure befell their fate before the sacrifice of old, now the town conventions cracked down its center, bursting from the ground to play out all their dreams. In that dying light of identity that was left hanging on the post of the son of man.

It was courage and a time to be bold my kin, they play in gullys of new freedom, unity was prophecy this time they came together and all those divisions washed up in the gutters of the past. Merry barbarians bash their drums, childish beasts praise to the protection of an overlooking presence to the consciousness of all. A redesign each time to the fresh new day, the Arcadian built on the backs of grappling faith.