If I call out, they have won.
If I stay silent, they have won.
If I grind my teeth, they have won,
If I gape like a fish, they have won.
If I go…ape then go
ghost bull, horn to horn…
Throw down fresh sand and be prepared
for ghost blood in the halls
and on the street ghostly gore.
Put out ghost flyers on the walls
Two ghost bulls go, now three, now four
Are ghostly gladiators on the floor?
Where in a silent battle, where no quarter is given
and inches are precious like gold. We take the strain in a nose to nose, forehead to forehead battle of force in the ghostly sawdust ring.
Night after night, fight after fight; battering ram blows rain down on my head,
made of bone and horn and not sensitive at all; that
absorbs all your blows and gougings of the horn.
We can do this all night …if you have the stamina…Ohhhh!
Crescendos of ghostly cat-calls ring out and the battle rages on
until finally it is no more.
The combatants weary yet idle for more.
on reflection…
Will I see precious peace in the place of ghostly wildebeest?
Or will I spend my time alone and go mad with only blades of ghostly
grass for company?
I vouchsafe on this ghostly wreath for nights made of more horn than you bargained for on this heath.
Now go in peace ghost bull, go into whatever place IS NOT IN MY FACE!
Material things get the better of us 