Rambo Knievel

art, Poetry 1 Minute

Rambo thinks I’ve got an unnatural fixation
on boring work, health and safety legislation.
I loathe that crazy braggarts sick insinuation
leaping into lakes, from supersonic sidecars,
seconds from organ splattering annihilation,
is the perfect perforation of peaceful paradise.
Risking lacerated limbs and a leaking spleen
is not my means of creating a thrilling scene.
There is no withering of life’s bountiful fruits
in dodging Knievel’s spine shattering pursuits.
I’d rather navigate life’s labyrinth with wretches
seeking asylum from sickness in acres of sketches,
or lose myself in psychedelic swirls and twirls,
orbiting thirteen tribes of buxom Goddesses
playing hide and seek in my pools of pearls.
It’s usually those riddled with dementia,
who fail to see my craving for adventure.
Adventure minus a tailbone through the brain
risk of parachuting off the Eiffel Tower again.


© Rodney Hunter, 2018

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Published by surrealartpsychonaut

Among other things, the Surreal Art Psychonaut is a conduit to a lonely desert track lined with abandoned museums, laboratories full of aliens and aliens full of laboratories. Agar gel is their marmalade, anthrax is their herbs and spices and steel is their fiber. The Psychonaut's LIKE button is not there for decorative purposes, if you enjoy one of his poems, short stories, or articles, PRESS IT. Striking the LIKE button is as critical as sounding the alarm when the Triffids rise again. If I am displeased by a critique, I will paint the offenders lounge suite with a cocktail of rats piss and goats blood, graffiti their cat, tattoo their goldfish and reduce the tires of their pride and joy to a molten mess with some epic burnouts in the nearest police station car park. Then I will waggle my finger at them and say, you should not have said that. At this point, you may be wondering just how much we have in common. My hobbies are vampire hunting, werewolf taming and exorcising flagons of rum. Look, the spirits are all gone. I'm a unicorn whisperer by trade, and have been for the best part of eight centuries. I've spent the worst part of eight centuries having tickle fights with the alien from the Predator movie. The less said about that the better.

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