Memory Fragments: Probity

Kettle Of The Nameless Mountain

Wanna now how I got this here scars do ya? Sit yo' ass down now and perk those wax makers
Ain't no shit harder than mine truly, boy. Harsher, harder, stronger and colder than an ox's bum
So waddayouthink happen' to gramps here, huh? 'course crap got beaten out for bein' painters
Hell! Shit ain't over yet, no sir. Got lots more ice and wind to leave earth as green as ma' thumb

What was I? I ain't nothing if not a mountain protester, that I was! Ya ever heard of our kettle?
Fine a' dandy slop of horseshit and mushed brains we were. Yet we were calm as a pop o' ice
It wasn' until wind rose and blew our snow off of our mountain, takin' for granted our mettle
...Nah, son. It wasn' their fault. It was us, tryin' 'ta hol' shit together, so everythin' would be nice

We painted our names atop and throughout this settlement, thinking it belonged to us by right
But wind said fuck that. And erased our legacy with many a hurricane that chilled us buttfrozen
Since then, we have been made of ice and wind. Like a remainder flying by us as an icicle kite
Winter do be a bitch, right? Well, you can thank miss Pantha Rhei for the shitty, rapid cozen

Cheap bitch. Well, it ain't shit we can do about it. Such is Lady Gaia abide than we must realize
You heard over yonder about the folks of fire and lightning? That, too, was the lady's doing
We have an inherent, dormant truth in us. Despite our appearance, this is no funny disguise
We are the philosopher's kids, son. Her core, a stone said to bring whatever she is brewing

Of fire and lightning, plasma. The stars above's skin, bone and meat. That is what it is
Of ice and wind, frozen dust. Whatever compels the universe to blow our way, that is too
Lady Gaia puts obstacles on our paths. Shitty hurdles we must overcome, like a pop quiz
Da' fuck, boy!? Ain't ice and wind supposed to be calming, solemn, and give you a cold brew?

But whatever. Ain't had a nice, cold one since we were transformed into ice and wind
I wonder how it would taste. A non-frozen liquid, going through me. Bet cha' it would freeze
Like my blood. My mind juices. My spirit animal. I used to be an ox, unruly and unconfined
I was the guardian of this mountain's rocky fields. Perfect for herding and a chilly breeze

The goats, birds, dogs and mountain plants have all turned into ice. The wind, blowin' snow
I had a special connection with the bulls and cows. Could tell what they were tryna' feel
An ox's sixth sense, let us say. But ice made all my senses dull, damn it! That is a low blow
Cannot see, hear, taste, smell; can only feel. Ice freezes all but the wind remains ever so real

Pantha is in this too, just like us. All she can do is blow stuff away from her; poor bitch
She used to take care of the pollination, seeing as no insects nor animals could do the job
She used to whisper sweets nothings into my ears whenever we crossed; made my nose itch
But now, nothing! No sweeties, no polen, no bitches! Nothing to call my gusty heartthrob

I ain't mad at her. Not really. She just up and blew herself away one day like it was nothing
She wasn' the only one. Multiple hers exists, yet I only ever felt her currents amidst my field
Her sisters, the other winds, blow constantly as you can feel. But it all means not a thing
Just rapids of hatred. Malevolent gusts of ire, pride and sadness for a heart that never healed

Pantha was her mentor. But, as she lost her heart to the winds, they became only drafts
Erratic and vengeful. Yet no two winds blow the same. They will never get her back
At least, not the her they used to remember. No, not the her I used to feel in my cold draughts
Wind blows many things, kid. Including how something used to feel so mighty, up on the rack

But! I still go out to do my job. And so should you too. Snow here ain't gonna fall any other way
So go out now, ya dumb fuck. Make a grandfather proud and let wind and ice cover this season!
The herd is waitin' for their fresh, frozen treats. I am waitin' to feel the fresh wind again this day!
For her to whisper my name again. Forgotten by the wind, and buried in the snow. My reason