Roy the Boy

There once was a boy, a hardy boy,
With the bravest heart and the name of Roy.

To friends and family he was very dear,
Yet they considered him slightly queer.

For wherever he went he sought out danger
And peril and death, but yet even stranger,

He had a worm’s tongue, split down the middle,
And when he spoke, his words were a riddle.

It was a pitiful mixture of snorting and wheezing,
When people him heard they thought him sneezing.

But one day young Roy had had quite enough,
He cried in despair for his life was too tough.

His cries were so loud that it echoed in hell
Where the Devil them heard and deemed it well,

That such a courageous soul as Roy’s
Was easily snared by the gift of a voice.

Thus the Devil went up and through the earth,
His head popped up as a goat gave birth.

But Roy would not stir at this hellish sight,
His heart was so brave, it urged him to fight.

But the Devil was cunning and with all his charm,
He said: “Please be still boy, I wish you no harm.

I’ve heard all your sobbing and now I say this:
I’ll give you a voice if you manage a kiss.

Though it must be a real one, not conquered by force,
Nor bought from a hooker, or laid on a horse.

This task you will have three days to complete,
But if you should fail your life’s obsolete.

Your soul will be mine and with me you will dwell,
In a place rather hot, but hey, what the hell!”

This could be quite costly, but still what a deal,
Thought Roy as he signed what the Devil would seal.

And once he had written his name on the paper,
The Devil did vanish in a sulphurous vapour.

Now all that remained for young Roy to do,
Was doing some snogging and maybe more too.

But this soon proved to be quite an ordeal,
Since the kiss was not his to buy or to steal.

But the first day young Roy was exceedingly sure
That the task would be easy and his soul would endure,

And so he did not feel it urgent to kiss,
But instead spent his day in ignorant bliss.

Thus the second day came and Roy then saw fit
To set out on his quest, both with guts and some wit.

But women would shun him and his silly charade,
And as the dusk came, still no kiss he had laid.

When the third day then dawned with no other change
Than a growing despair which was vast in its range,

He would wander and plead for a loving embrace,
Yet soon he was thinking of Beelzebub’s face.

And all women he spoke to they thought he was mad,
Since his words made no sense and his temper was bad.

He considered his cross then too heavy to bear,
And so he too deep in a river did stare.

He fell on his head and began then to drown,
And he thought it best since he’d been such a clown.

But a passing by lady had seen young Roy falling
And fetched him right up through some skilful trawling.

Yet Roy was unconscious and saved still by far,
Thus, the good lady began C.P.R.

And so with her mouth at times at his,
Was that not really a half decent kiss?

At this Roy awoke and returned her lip’s pleasure
With joy so great, beyond every measure.

The earth then trembled from the Devils wrath,
But Roy was merry for he knew that his path

Would no more lead down, but into the embrace
Of his trawling lady and her gentle grace.

And Roy then said that: “For heavens sake,”
For his tongue was no longer like that of a snake,

“So let us be wed, while little birds chirp.”
But the answer Roy got did sound like a burp.

Whatever she said it was wrought in a fog,
And her words were like bubbles from down in a bog.

And he soon realised that the Devil was happy,
Since Roy now loved one who sounded real crappy.

And the Devil’s mad laughter was echoed from hell,
But Roy shrugged his shoulders and thought: Oh well,

Though things could be better, but still yet far worse,
I did not end up in the Devil’s own purse.

What have you?

Have you seen the world through the eyes of an idiot?
Have you named the cattle Yours by burning its flesh?
Have you designed the world on your own accord?
Have you cursed the man going down in the fifth?
Have you put your trust in the swagger of martial men?
Have you clenched your fist for reasons now lost?
Have you sent someone for firewood and death?
Have you shouted trust but whispered deceit?
Have you felt the hammer doing the anvil’s bidding?
Have you heard the pen scratch bridges or walls?
Have you refused the stumble of responsibility?
Have you tasted the salt of sweat and red of blood?
Have you grown your crops and asked where it went?
Have you lived and died for more than life and death?
Have you searched for truth or crafted your own?
Have you lived or have you died?