The Galganaut

I'm not afraid of the galganaut,
Peering out from his overgrown huddle,
Inside his hole in the brook,
That I once mistook, 
For the water faeries',
Hide-n-seek cove.
 

I won't fall for his,
Dirty ol' tricks,
And bluffs -
That slick beast,
In his feast, on those,
Deserving, the least -

The slow and naive,
Who believe what they see,
But, refuse to see,
What's there.

That cove has eyes,
If you'd just look inside!
Garish and eating, 
Your soul,

Before its looks,
Reel you in,
With its hooks,
Of tin,
That you cradle,
Simply, 'cause 
You can.

A victim, no more,
To the galganaut,
And his tendencies,
Toward swift,
Deception.

For, what?
I don't know, 
But, to me,
He's no more.

I have whited him from,
My reality. 

Reviews

[Muse]

I understand this to be a beast of imagination? It was a little hard for me to follow the meaning behind this poem, maybe some use of descriptive words to paint your surroundings would help. Otherwise, you have a good tangible piece of writing here to develop on. Well done!