horse faces.

what do better horses eat?
oats.
what do better horse-faced hard-hearted haters eat?
oatmeal.
it's what's for breakfast.
seriously.
during the good ol' days,
the english would deride the scottish
about munching up on the same food they fed their horses.
'better horses, better men',
that was the invariable reply.
that's burly.
and i love some burly breakfast cereal.
believe that.
it says thick and rough on the box.
what?
(that's also what she said.)
c'mon.
i do that sort of variation.
we didn't get bread yesterday,
so toast is out of the question.
instead,
we're going whole-hog on a heavier whole grain.
oats.
oats are barbarian man food, ya'll.
wild oats grew all over the northern european lands.
and vikings ate the mess out of 'em,
and so did all the celts and other gaelic duders.
that's word.
and,
sowing wild oats means hard-style pounding, too.
double-dope.
an individual oat groat is a pretty fresh thing.
especially once it's flattened.
not that it takes a lot for me to get wound up,
but those burly groats have got it in spades.
i feel all fired up.
hot fire spitting,
and nose blowing,
are about all i do these days.
and eat oatmeal, too.
the winter loveliness was just kidding.
...figures.
instead of the powdery, plush purity of snow,
we're on that icy rain, slushy sleet sh!t.
floods are happening.
dirty deluge doo-doo is happening.
roads have gone missing,
cars are disappearing into lakes,
driveways have become doomsdays.
it's all really happening.
this is some kind of full-moon high tide omen.
B.H.M. werewolf thunder, even.
maybe even sea-wolf thunder.
it's ever-worsening severe winter weather.
man,
but i need a wolf skin or two,
and some gut-string chords,
and an axe.
seasonally appropriate garb, an' that.
this is viking weather.
this is berserker barbarian battle-beast weather.
this storm is what's up.
good thing i had those gnarly oats for breakfast;
never quiet, never soft.....