GRAVITY’S CHICKENS
GRAVITY’S CHICKENS
A creature of Habits
Too numerous to enumerate,
I liked to let them drive
while I
suggested destinations.
Their name was Legion,
or so they said,
And together they made
what passed for a Personality
in those dismal, distant days.
But sadly,
bit by bit,
and with a dreadful feeling
of familiarity to it all,
the Journey started to slip
out of my control.
A sickening, stomach churning slide
it was, but one that with it briefly brought
an accelerating,
exhilerating
free-fall from the Facts,
in the last seconds before gravity’s chickens
finally came home to roost.
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The Reverend Hellfire..removes stubborn stains!
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Reverend Hellfire's Sunday Sermon 
The metaphors in this poem sing. We all feel in control of our journey, at least sometimes and for awhile, but then our control spins from us, and the gravity chickens have their way, bringing us back down to earth.
What a fascinating place. Reminds me a bit of Swift’s A Modest Proposal, stunning in irony and thought. Thank you for visiting and “liking” one of my haiku.
Thank you. Proud to be compared to Mr Swift. I like the epitaph on his grave,
“He has gone where the savage indignation can no longer lacerate his heart. He was a friend of Freedom, go traveller, follow if you can”
(Pardon my poor translation from the latin)
Since my Latin is less than poor, your translation is just fine. That is beautiful, and I wasn’t familiar with it. Wish I’d studied him more in college, but there is only so much time. Looking forward to visiting here again.