what arthur saw

when the king of the britons awoke from his slumber

what did he see


he saw druidic groves

bulldozed by satyrs in hardhats and overalls

getting paid by the hour


bearded druids

too stoned to protest

dealing mushrooms on manchester streets

to afford an upper story loft


golden sickles pawned off 

to buy rolling paper and weed


names of lovers chiseled into standing stones

hidden behind ticket booths


faerie rings with conference tables

talking mergers and stock prices

of arabian oil and changeling leather


sidhe folk giving tours of glastonbury ruins

waiting for the fogs to roll in

to let them back to avalon

handing pamphlets until that day comes


kobolds in mines running out of coal

and precious metals

but still terrified at thought of leaving


red-clad goblins of vatican in a frenzy

since letting a real human into their midst


orange troll in a house of white plaster

once proud like alabaster

now standing witness to the foulest of beings


banshees of teutoburg forest

shooting pornos in german dungeons


scandinavian dwarves queuing for welfare


clay golems throwing fire

from inside jerusalem’s walls


hugin and munin arguing over grammar

while odin hanged from the world tree


noonwraiths and strigas brewing moonshine

kelpies drowing in oil spills

kraken served in a fancy tokyo bistro

hundreds killed by selfies around basilisk’s cage

dragons sitting on hoards of cryptocurrency

solomon daemons holding apartments in burj khalifa


but no lady in a lake


king arthur saw all that

and in his booming

heroic voice



“it always seems like the end of the world”


as he rolled over to sleep again

This poem is about: 
Our world


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