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Up early. Eat breakfast – many calories to burn.
Though the temp will soon reach 90, long sleeves must be worn.
For my enemy is crafty, and has the devil’s soul
and if it bites my unclothed arm, it leaves a gaping hole.
A pleasant drive now to the site, before the war ensues
where I size up the enemy and solemnly peruse
the gleaming lot of weaponry – assessing its appeal.
Clippers, shovel, trowel and pick; I arm myself with steel.
Soon the soldiers, they arrive, bathed in morning light,
we clad our hands in leather gauntlets, then prepare to fight.
Soon unfolds the grizzly scene, it’s us against a thorn machine.
We find ourselves caught in between gnashing teeth of emerald green.
Tentacles like hydra heads that feed on volunteers –
for every single head you sever, another one appears.
Amidst the melee I can see where several emanate
I trace their length down to the earth where the demon’s heart doth wait.
I boldly plunge my battered shovel deep into the ground
I dig and pry with all my might and Hark! – a lovely sound:
The tendons of our hideous beast do snap and break apart.
I lift my shovelful of dirt and unearth the ugly heart.
Hours pass and sweat it flows, and as we work my hunger grows,
so I pick a bloody, bulbous berry and in my mouth it goes.
Alas, at one, our work is done, and clean-up must begin –
a wheelbarrow rolls along and the dead are piled in.
And as we leave to nurse our wounds I hear the bramble say:
“Have a nice one sucker, I’ll see YOU next Saturday!”