Thread: Bearding the Dragon

Aha! I did smote that annual Dragon who demands reams of calculations factoring in each whining excuse for forgiveness. Not once - but thrice I sallied forth into oddly worded forms which need a crystal ball to accurately interpret.

Each year the dragon spews forth a new twist to the old labyrinth of how to get from the beginning to the completion of convoluted percentages which vary from each kingdom across my land. The decrees are tinted with pink and blue to determine which bevy of bureaucratic bumblers is exacting a toll on its citizens.

Imagine how much more rancorous this task is when the good people, being held accountable, have actually expired. The Dragon even noses around sniffing out alms from ashes.

With due diligence, slips of crinkled paper (proving worthiness) are ferreted out from dusty misplaced files. The abacus is juggled to produce checks and balances as the tension mounts.

While there are clerks who make their living off such mammoth tasks, I prefer to take on the Dragon myself. It's true, I am but a humble poet living in the land of freedom (at a price) but the honour of my kin is at stake. I availed myself of their expertise only once and discovered their lack of skill meant my peace was disturbed. For months I had to scuttle around, from pillar to post, dredging up morsels to satiate the beast. Fire and brimstone was delivered to my door in the form of indecipherable decrees. I would have to consult the harried envoys the Dragon employs to clarify what was needed to regain a state of grace. After six months of interminable surprise attacks, calm was restored. From that day hence I swore I would compose my own overtures so I would be personally responsive to the menial chores serfdom entails.

Paying my respects to my departed elders has now crossed the proverbial Rubicon. All that is left is to await the response from the double toungued Dragon. It should take the waxing of one moon before knowing we are in the clear and no further penance is required.

Honour thy father and mother.

[an:3567d7a0af]Poetry Link: http://www.writingforums.com/viewtop...=146421#146421[/an:3567d7a0af]

Now I do believe I am prepared to investigate the merits of my vacuum cleaner.

hey, pen!... if you give away all you own, like i did, and then live only on soc. sec. [when you get old enough, that is], bearding the dragon's a piece of cake!

all i do is put -0- on every line and sign the verdammt thing and the ordeal is over for another year... age does have its privileges!

love and hugs, maia

ps: cute piece!

It's a good idea Maia but I am firmly entrenched in consumerism and filthy lucre. This was written to ease the frustration and feelings of disclosure due to doing my parent's taxes for the last time. An issue of respect for me. When one is an executor as well as a family member there are some odd grieving moments. Doing their taxes was one of them. I don't cry often but I did when I put my mother's return in the evelope. Not ashamed to admit it either. However - I've crossed one more river.

Thanks for commenting.