On ‘Tribes’

“You’re on the wrong team” I heard him scream

awakening me from a pleasant thought stream.

“You can’t be there, they’ve got it all wrong”

he then carried on in a strange sing-song.

“Your tribe is here with the winning pack;

come and join us, you’ll never look back”

“Those over there don’t know shit from clay;

come over here we’ll show you the way.”

But try as I might I just could not see

how ‘over there’ I’d ever feel like me.

They all toe the line, do the right thing;

never live life out there on the wing.

“Fuck em” I thought I’ll walk my own trail

with never a map but under full sail.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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