Botherhood of duped fraternities

The lonely road was short of three miles,
if it hadn’t been I would still be riding in
the bus to school, muzzled and dressed in
a straight-jacket, still distressed by the
closed groups who sat in cliques and ruled
from their non-transferrable seats, angered
by the moronic driver who closed his insect
mind to their shameful behaviour,
permitting proprietary gangs
to rule the school bus aisles.

I rebelled. I would not take their shit
and threatened one and all to combat.
It never came to that, the driver put up
my weights and I was expelled. I could not
give him thanks, the rat, but was glad he
was so easily lead. It made getting one’s
own-back so much easier, and so sweet is
planned revenge. Thus I rode alone with no
repeal to school, a solo ride as none of my siblings
was required to make the trip on two wheels.

A loner bent on righting personal wrongs became
the legend I recited as I rode the lonely road,
an unrequited maverick, prepared to clench a fist
and fight for creature rights, a madman in the face
of group harangue, a saviour to the weak, oppressed
and sick at heart unless they joined a chequered gang.
And thus it stayed. I never joined the botherhood of
duped fraternities, of joint stupidity, I found
my lasting friends amongst the stong, free spirits
resisting populist insulting opinions.
© I.D. Carswell