Bottle, Part V

Insert cliched weather and conditions here
add predictable elements of gloom and fear
Throw in the fact that the bear will suffer
the fox will fight
and the crane will cry
and that somebody will die.

And something about how anyone who survives
will actually be dead in some shape or form
or will be alive.
It's weird, but that's the norm.

Just like the frightful apparitions.
Cold air whispers of violence
and a warm gust of mayhem.

A dirge hits the opening notes
souls tremble with each beat.
They know in the time of the falling rain
little birds will sing again.

They're getting practice now
singing chords and stretching sounds
as a virus spreads through the veins of the town:
Rumors and calls to (h)arm(s)

Be ready all of you,
Somewhere, sometime, soon.
The bear is going down
to meet his doom.

Your kingdom must come down
I'll use your blood to paint the town
Soon, your hide will be mine
And I'll drink from your fucking skull!

We're unusually poetic
roses are colorful
something... kill the bear

A chorus of misery,
bloodshed,
triumphant pain.
To expel evil.
Wet and hammered
feathery and flawed
furry and clawed.
Squawking as crowds gather,
they'll assemble in bloodthirsty awe.

Hear drips drops landing on roofs and ground
creating a sweet melody
a tender sound.
Preparing the dirt for blood and bruising.
To be drowned by a symphony of crunching bones
and broken jaws

Melodious bleeding and seething.
Backed by tremendous booms.
Invisible horses thunder across the clouds with celestial hooves.
A poorly executed metaphor.
A splendidly executed feat:
The cosmic dance.
Or a kick in the ass.

How it continues.
The hushed voices, the pleas for punishment.
Spinning bright night into day.
A cure for insomnia and all our ills and thrills.
Spun by some invisible idol with too many identities and names.
Usurped the crown and made this a bizarre game.
Tame, lame, insane, inane, same, here come the thunder and rain.
Wash the world clean again and gain.

Sharpening axes and spikes.
Loading bullets, polishing knives.

Pacing, coughing, sneezing, sobbing.
Drinking, belching, weeping, losing.
Breathing, snarling, bleeding, seething.

I'm going to kill that bear.
I will! I swear!
the fox shouted at the angry sun.
Readying his mind,
making himself deadlier than any gun.

Delicate, tender, broken, battered and bruised.
The crane readied herself for the carnage that would ensue.
She had seen the rumors come to life
how mean-spirited thinking created strife and grief.

Mobs are organizing.
Crowds are gathering
Murders of murderers planning and scheming.
The fox dried his tears and drank in rage.

Glory be ours
the end is nigh
the bear will die

Please, sir, don't
she pled.
Get out of my way or it's off with your head.
I know who you are
I know what he did
and let me tell you, he's better off dead!
I will stand in your way, and defy you to the end.
You are our enemy if you are his... friend.

She stepped aside slowly.
There would be no stopping him now
nothing would break his iron vow
He'd slaughter the bear like a doomed cow

The sack of fur sat still.
Faced with death and the unknown beyond.
Trapped inside his bottle
his heart beating faster and faster.

In his mind,
A glimmering sea of fire, pitchforks and guns.
The bear was sober and trapped.
Quietly trembling, gathering rage.

I have come for your head.
There's a crowd coming soon
if you give up now, you'll be spared.
I'll grant you a swift death.

I've given this some thought
I understand your terms and what you mean
But I've decided to decline your offer.

Have you been drinking?

The bottle is empty.
Everything is clear.
There is nothing in this place that I have to fear.

You idiot, they're rushing over here!
Reconsider!
Live in the afterlife.

No.

You fucking idiot!

The swarm slithered and surrounded the bottle.
A deafening roar swallowed itself.
The most delicate and excruciating silence ever known.

The bear for the first time ever was truly alone.
There was nowhere to run.