WHAT THEN (in poetic prose)

EXERCISING MY VOICE This one’s for mine in kind. What then, what did you think you’d find, your hen? Would you strip me of my passion? Extinguish my flame? Am I no longer in fashion? Did you think me lame? Slither on the ground and hide under a rock? Here I am, still around, watch me prance like a Cock No excuses, just revving up. Watch my juices still just a pup. Turn me inside out even pop out my eyes if you have doubt. Check me like merchandise, you who are devout. My will I possess. It can not be bought. I won’t acquiesce. I am not just an afterthought! If the roar of the malcontent called out their lament my silence would circumvent their original intent. I won't give up for what I fought! I am a giant red oak adjusts to the wind all your saws won’t provoke. I can't be skinned. You want to change me? You Sir, are in the wrong field. No, not this old tree. you won't, you can’t break this shield. There are no sheep here, I won’t apologize. So sorry my dear, I don’t compromise. This particular shaped block will never fit your round hole. Let's just call this a deadlock. I'm one you'll never steamroll! Armand Hamouth