Jup

Julian Jup cantered down his dirt,
speechifyin' plain and savvy
with the breeze flutterin' through his shirt
with Ozarkan realism and no time for sappy -
some times he could be curt, cantering down his dirt.

He cooed, warbled, quipped, and altercated.
He swived, shagged, regaled, and loved the smell.
No, he's not the type at all - not the type to be assimilated.
He wasn't going to hell, but he was already ablaze...
and quite burning well.

He drank wine with Pholus, he mischiefed with Nessus,
and some times he sparred with Chiron,
and he saw his father, lethal, thunderous  -
We can't stay around, Jove, free, swift, and spun.
Jove, stay astrife, we will bless us.

The magnificent Maverick meandering mare,
he ate and smoked all manner of grass
from land to land, racing, travelin', here and there
Defusing, debating, and visiting his favored lass.
He didn't pick one forest -friendly fire - he could share,
with his tail swingin' to and fro, grazin'g good grass.
Ownership? Jove, we are dead. He didn't care.

Julian Jup was gallopin' with a flaming stride.
He was  jocund, bloomin' red, and always right -
a few good rules he'd abide
with the universe and the cosmopolite,
"I've got my good shoes on, so follow the ride.
Keep up, keep up, there's another delight."

Jup mused and mulled,, aimed, and shot his arrow
his mates, Chiron and Cupid, tapping his shoulder,
"aim high and narrow -
you've got to be hooves -rearing and bolder,
but don't hit the cardinals and or that sparrow.
Leave her alone, she'll be fine when she's older."

He speculated and impatiently waited,
Burned out, the land was a desert with a dream of water.
His usual appetite was hated, maligned, and sated.
 He'd no son, no love, no labor, no daughter.
His mane was weathered, seasoned, and dated,
He wondered - he wondered about his father.

Julian Jup's shoes were worn and cracked,
he wandered -  no home, and no surcease of the stable.
He coughed, repined, and hacked,
boons and boondoggles weighted with a label,
none so nary trinkets and good shoes stacked.
His story was misguided and just a fable,
His image was mangy and his best was in a cradle
Till....

He descried another sign, versed in roots from the  grass!
Just be dainty and dandy down the hill
with all your acumen, tact, and good things amass.
"Rearing horse, blithely now - not a blathering Bill!"
You can be tall and venerable with the lass
not wanting, not burning, not possessing the thrill.

Jup amended thunder and lightening,
Saturn, Mercury, and the moon decided how he shines,
genteel and gingerly lighting,
"I've done this. I've done this nine times.
I want to survey and learn the sighting."


He'd fought the Hydra and extracted from the scales
a goodly bunch of healing and dealing.
He saw one as red as he, a scorpion with veils,
rearing well and feeling.
She knew all the small flavors and smells,
and gleaned a great Virgin commingling.
Nine heavens masked and conquered hells,
she was still puissant, brilliant, and stinging.