Their legs swayed underneath them
as they stared out at the fog
moving over Mundar Lake,
the fake one built by the mayor in 2058
when the answer came to them, over this transistor radio
from the saturated orange glow of the
gallant galactus
filling the yonder sky with eyes
meshed with shadows of spiraling galaxies
spraying from his gaping mouth
touting his own agenda
about how we have
until the clock strikes the stroke of naught,
and then the four horseman will ride
and fires will rain down
and the world will flip inside out
as we are swallowed by the zeal
as we become the meal for this large
gargantuan minion, a flashback, a vapor trail
of a time long past
in all that he is, they are

and as the locusts start
to tune & prepare for another mid day symphony
by the lagoon of the smoky lake,
these 4 lads said to one another while standing on the docks
in the lone area not rotten all the way through
by the chattering woodchips dispensed by the termites,

-dialogue-
"Hey Guys! Guys! Listen up! Listen.
We ought to go and do it! No....really! We should go and meet Him head on!
What? Shut up, Martin!

Ok?

It's not stupid.

Listen,

I heard about this secret gang, the G's,
the people with the kind of clout
we only heard about
or saw in the movies, up on TV, you see we need
to devise a plan and strategy!
I don't know how we ever grew to be,
this weak people waiting for the end
to everything in ten years time, cause
Guys, it's up to us, we gotta go,
we gotta travel to where
His heel meets the Red Sea,
and wade through its salt, past the reptilian monsters,
I want no more of their
lies! I'm tired of how they keep avoiding us, saying,

'Perhaps we should reconvene next week? I mean, we mean
to find a cure to this, but all in good time!
There's no rush, no hurry,
we're bound to find the solution, before all that began soon ends.'

But guys, we don't need any of their absolution
to bring the bloody Galactus to his knees!"

They were mere teenagers, but
knew they must reply,
not through sounds
but out loud
they must seek it out,
find the secrets
long passed down,
known only by the Two G's,
hidden behind their symbols and rituals
their numbers and heritage
their truth in golden trinkets and silver rings
disguised in the fabric of all things
destined to change the brawl into a fight
into the one idea it could only dream to be,

stumbling upon their lazy God, Bela Lugosi,
eating grapes in flowery coats and hollow institutions,

"They say you want a revolution!
Oh well,
you know,

we all want to change the world"

They stayed behind to say
they want
another
evolution
another impossible feat,
that anyone could pop or hatch
and stumble upon the catch, and that
will be the way out of this
pervasive doomsday
weighing over
their bent backs and reeling knees.

As with anything of the natural or organic,
hidden in the history long ago written,
during the Age of black clouds and
soot covered demons erupting from the cover of the galactic fog,
the ancestors hit the earth's virgin gravel
they stumbled out, and
in their last breaths
they laid it out to the founders of the G's
the answer to be passed
along from the
previous Three planets humans had eaten and devoured-
but somehow were able protect and value this viable escape plan.

A new way, man-

for an entire species
to become one with ancient relics,
pods of a precise definition
and durability found
deep beyond the Rift Valley,
in the midst of snakes and
alien skulls, long ago crushed
by the mantra of the meek

these cats left their keep
their prized possession
for us to find
when it is time
for the galactus to become hungry once again
and destroy what we created,

the aid comes in the form of a blueprint

or so they say-
the G's supposedly do, anyway,
as they conceal themselves
beneath the bee hives and cities
sucking nectar from the oil
of the milky wall street tycoons
shuttling out in new spacecraft
moving past the silky moon, spending
all their money, all in gluttony,
to finally picnic
on the plains of Mars and eat cavier
that's where it all started,

It was the loudest explosion
the mind could ever conceive of
take leave of
the perils of creation
captured in the kindling
burning late over the horizon
it was all eclipsed
by large, gigantic eyes
whose gruesome sties
were stars raining down
a message glowing
for all to witness and behold

the great galactus-

And so it began,
and so these four kids began to set sail
through the primordial oceans
and lands, to reach the
mysterious ices of Mundar
not far from the coast
in the caves overlooking
the tides of the great Black Sea-

as only four, they are four

and

as we are, they are, too,

and so as the engines rattled
for the next Great Move, where humans
clear the air from their pollutions, they knew,
scared as they might be,
the seekers of the G's must stay behind
and unwind the truth now before them
to become a part of the

TWO G's


to venture out

and bring this

sucker

all
the
way

down

10/12/2006

Author's Note: my epic poem recounting the band of do gooders quest to find the G's, the 2 G's, it's like the Goonies meets Star Wars, hope you liked the story- this is part of a larger series, so it isn't exclusive on its own :)

Posted on 10/12/2006
Copyright © 2024 Curt Allday