Saturday, April 16, 2011

Khyber's Reason

It snows down real slow
Like the clouds are afraid
Of the beasts who roam
The blood soaked mountains

He was named
After an ancient place
With eyes of a wolf
 Set on a rogue’s face

A lawless dog
 That guarded the law
In a land where
Even the weak were strong

Where wounded men searched
 For reasons to draw
Stolen guns and swords
 Over a wet bale of straw

Who are we to judge?
 or pretend to referee
Wild animals are but
 Prisoners of geography

After every cowardly night
 had gladly flown
Old Khyber returned
 To his bed alone

For eight long years
Not a living thing survived
If with no invitation
 An intruder arrived

Such was the legend
 of that dog’s patrol
Less dog more demon
A big heart with zero soul

Of all the things
 dear to him
He guarded his straw bed
 Like it was an old lover’s skin

No one but the chief
Was allowed to approach
About ten yards or so
 near Khyber’s porch

Remember that bit
 about men in that place
Who killed for no reason
 or for no trace

He was but an animal
 who only cared for his bed
When people around
 killed for reasons unsaid

One day in the chief’s life
As they walked
 To his possessed bed
In the morning around five

There in his corner lay
 a young pup so sick
That the time in him
 was afraid to tick

Khyber did not know
 how he had sneaked in
The chief just knew
 hell was ready to begin

He looked at his old dog
 to see how long it takes
Before the ancient killer
inside awakes

Khyber snarled at
 the thief, in his bed
The chief looked at a life
 about to be dead

But then the old devil
slowly, turned around
And started to walk away
 without a sound

In mid step he looked back
 at the chief
Who stared at his fierce eyes
 Wise and free

The old dog shrugged
As if to say
I will let life
 live this day

A beast planted
 a thought in a person’s head
A reason to kill
 should be more than a bed.

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