Terfunquit's Ballad
Legend is his species
Yet he sleeps for not being slayed
Deep below, below earthen dirt
Treaded on years after days
Sound a-sleeping and sound silent,
But vibrations have been felt
When he awakes the land will crumble, and off his shoulders it will melt
Whether one eyed or two
His fleshy brethren have fallen
To heroes whose names are often called
Whether be David! Thor! Odysseus! Or others hereafter
They will not be there, and to him they do not matter
For he has survived a millennium
And with the coming of the millennials he has evolved,
His body composed of rock, tree roots, and dust
Has been armored with concrete and metal a-rust.
Wires and pipes in his veins and foundations
He has been upgraded, and is ready to reboot from under the nation.
Instead of hand, club, or whetstone
He will wield a traffic sign as his axe,
Or a large billboard as his hammer,
Maybe something bigger or stronger.
Whatever reaches his hands
As he rises with the sands of time falling.
Buildings will be torn in half, and houses settled on his shoulders,
Cars falling off him along with the boulders.
His eyes once like deep vacant caverns
Will be enlightened with screens, technology, and fury,
As the area around him will be blurry,
Due to smoke and smog from his chimneys imbedded on his back.
He is the urban giant under Terfunquit’s name,
And after all the pollution and drilling,
He thinks it’s time some humans are slain.
Scars serve as his reminder where his trees have been chopped
To make room for another mall parking lot.
For now, he is resting
Under blankets of towns, cities, junkyards, and rumble
Waiting patiently to awake and put humanity in trouble
If they do not fix thier act and quit their disturbances,
He may not stay asleep long under their world of coal and oil furnaces.