OH HARK 31

The poet's throat felt like parched up earth during a drought
His legs felt palsied, and incipient tears he fought.
Was his friend really no more?
 For him , what more tragedy  was in store?

"To be a part of this ghostly hospitality
 It never  appealed  to my sense or sensibility."
A familiar voice behind them said.
 The javelin man whirled around and almost dropped dead.

"Give me  a high five and pass me the drum.
 You thought I was dead , I have come back,you bum."
He snatched  the drum and whacked him on the head . 
The javelin man gaped  at  the man who he thought was dead. 

With a cry of joy, the poet hurled himself at his chum
The gore-splattered drummer responded by beating the drum.
Said he  "I need to beat the drum to stem the rot."
The javelin man scoffed  and gave a derisive snort. 


 Through bramble and bier,through poisonous nettle 
They threaded their way, ready for  another battle.
The javelin man looked at the drummer with scorn
His teeth he gnashed cursing  the drummer  reborn.

  To the beat of the drum they walked , the trees rustled 
 Amused by  the threesome well muscled  who also tussled.
The javelin man was like a bear with a sore head .
The drummer like a ghost risen from the dead.  

As a rejoinder to the poet's  verses 
The javelin man spat out a string of curses.
Suddenly a stern voice sounded in his ear
He looked around quaking with fear.

"Drummer beat the drum, I hear voices, you know."
" Am I your man Friday and you Robinson Crusoe?"
 Snapped the drummer,seething with rage .
 The javelin man felt like a helpless bird in a cage.

The jungle   muttered , like the ravings of a  man insane .
 The javelin man was under intense strain.
Suddenly they sighted  a woman feeding a furnace bent double.
Around the corner was there some more trouble?