dungeon master
voice of stories and dreams
of little girls laughter
and terrible screams
a giant of man
even more than he seems
all night by the fire
we sit while he stands
keeping the peace
with a shovel in hand
bellows for lungs
the fire to the fan
tired, black eyes
a menacing grin
strong hugging arms
for forgiving our sins
shelter from storms
blocker of wind
beheader of fables
canner of babes
stone pounder for all the
songs that we made
a hammer, a tree trunk
not easily swayed.


muser, philosopher
emperor fair
quester for knowledge
and comfortable chairs
the smoker and toker
of our Mutant's Lair
defender of pissfoam
and midgets and such
victim and prince
of the peanutbutter cup
cougher and hacker
not quite throwing up
red eyes, the one
with the bellowing laugh
creator of "buttsex"
rob's better half
a hooded sage leans
on a well wielded staff

dremmeltool master
defiler of books
spitter of chuckles
at unknowing heads
"you know what i mean..."
and we knew what he said


kahobbit, the small one
the acrobat thief
climber of trees
from the root to the leaf
the poker of fun and
the giver of grief

firestarter, burner of
kittens and hair
the poetic, romantic
and pirate shirt wearer
keeper of the lighthouse
guardian of the lair

tenant of the Mantle House
heir to the insane
keeper of records
jumper of trains
gatherer of all the
food for the brain

mythmaker, tempter
historian scribe
creator of the man
with snakes in his eyes
the drummer of passion
who cannot get high**


the oversized cuddler
the giver of hugs
the lsd taker who
can't hold his drugs
the coat tail at which
marybeth always tugs

the arrogant bastard
whom the teachers all hate
the one who fell ryan
with all of his weight
explainer of psyche,
science and fate

the far side character
who "has fun out there"
the one weighed down with
pager and cell-phone he bears
he who tucks in every
shirt that he wears

truthteller of lies
the injun, the orphan
with tears in his eyes
one of few that i know
who at least always tries


the pinhead dancer
the giggling freak
who's desire is strong
but virtue is weak
he who says things
that aren't proper to speak
the drummer, the singer
of silly rhymes
the one far from home
most of the time
suspect of blatant
immodesty crimes

lover of women and
lover of man
the one who is easily
blown by the wind
he who may be offensive
but always a friend
the naked one
with the long, girly hair
the first one to make up
or take up a dare
the shit-eatin grin
and the dubious stare


tea drinker, deep thinker
strummer of chords
he does yoga to music
on carpeted floors
believer of ghosts
in the creaking floor boards

the thousand voices
that made us all laugh
sailor of seas of despair
on a quick sinking raft
the one mike doesn't like
due to loves of the past


the jester, the nerd
the brain and the boob
the mind drugs can't numb
but migraines consume
even his whisper can
fill up the room
the non-stop talker
the reader of minds
a face that's intelligent
unknowing and kind
god only knows what
goes on in that mind


the banker, the asshole
the self-serving prick
the one who prematurely
pulled out his dick
the bedpost hair story
that made us all sick


the axeman who's
fallen in love with the trees
a good friend whose
sermons got hard to believe
one lost to the wood
who we cannot retrieve


the cleric, the android
forever a tool
the dull, the heart's big
in this innocent fool
for whom marriage to sloth
seems a little too cruel


remember all the rules
we broke
in highschool days
it's hard to make friends
in times like these

musing over tea
and smoke
from cigarettes
a holiday of friends
with simple needs

the truth behind the lies
we spoke
from basement chairs
recordings as cruel
as cellar walls

raking summers leaves
that fall
summer's leavings fell
on autumn days of
quiet conversations

another acid tab
another toke
to get us high
laughing and shouting
from comfortable chairs

heroes don't come easy
we came
play stained and filthy
we were
angry and inaccurate
we never told
the truth

a bargain for the money
we have
a pocket full of wisdom
trade for
a pocket full of riddles
left with our
pockets full.


a gypsy off the street
will change your money
turn the money over on the wallet
turn a pocket full of
to a pocket full of

a gypsy off the street
will sing a song or
kiss your hand
in trade for pocket money
shame on those
who give no money
to those holding
gypsy kids

a gypsy off the street
can get you tickets for your money
to a concert full of gypsies
dancing for the money
singing songs of
pocket lint

a gypsy off the street
collects his money
from a man
outside the bath house
admission for another
hard days work
300 forent for admission
to the steam room
where another 1000 forent
gets you gypsy head

a gypsy off the street
holds her younger sister
her mother begging tourist money
from the pockets of the rich
another tourist's cafe table
another nien, a no, a niet
another pleading word
a tourist
doesn't understand.

a gypsy begs, a gypsy borrows

a gypsy trades, a gypsy steals

a mother begs, a father labors

for a gypsy family's meal.

(**please note that this inconsistency with reality is merely due to a two month lack of communication with said subject. all other inconsistencies with reality are merely due to mind-altering chemicals.)

-the gilded frame-

((This was the content of a scrolled cutting received by the mutants while Scott was traveling in Romania--a beautiful letter home. See Black Street. No Trade. Gypsies! for details.))

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