The Proverbial Line That Some Call Fine
Divides excess from
Moderation
Separates sacredness &
Desecration
Cut, zealotry, the skewer of
Madness, the fervor that
Raves, screeching bigotry of
Drunkards & hamburger apple pie,
Kind woman with starry eyes that
Cooks the family recipe while
Insanely I keep reciting
After
Line
Regurgitate exactly, the
Alphabet of bitten apples
Vanish, if only out of love with
Vanity we'd fall and fail to
Ravish the prideful fountain of
Sensual ichor, that drips from a
Stone yoni austere, set apart
Disembroiled from familial
Ties of animal fear &
Egoic tricksters
That chuckle &
Sit sneering.
Feel the imprint braille of preserved &
Pickled tears, screwed tight in mason jars
Against the dust storms & uncaring years, the
Protracted drought that leering leaves our
Confidence smeared and deprives our spirit of
Enthusiasm submerged in some abyssal chasm of
Gears that grind incessancy into bone meal.
Reaper grim which grinned, &
Through my flight the grid became
Hyperfaint, appearing viper-thin in the
Distorted vision of my jackal eyes.
Adrenalic moment, the record
Skipping pebble-pond hop
Of infinity's jitter,
Did I finally recognize
With no little chagrin,
The proverbial wisdom of
The line that was thin.
Slim, that
Channel, that
Some call
Fine.
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By @d-pend
8/29/17
Image isFree domain.
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Again...exquisite and other-worldy in a familiar way BroStar @d-pend! This part nails my childhood in this human lifetime here on Earth... "Memorize this, quickly
Regurgitate exactly, the
Alphabet of bitten apples
With a snap all of this could
Vanish, if only out of love with
Vanity we'd fall and fail to
Ravish the prideful fountain of
Sensual ichor, that drips from a
Stone yoni austere, set apart
Disembroiled from familial
Ties of animal fear &
Egoic tricksters
That chuckle &
Sit sneering.
And if only we would really hear, or
Feel the imprint braille of preserved &
Pickled tears, screwed tight in mason jars
Against the dust storms & uncaring years, the
Protracted drought that leering leaves our
Confidence smeared and deprives our spirit of
Enthusiasm submerged in some abyssal chasm of
Gears that grind incessancy into bone meal."
Abysmal chasm/abyssmal chasm...love your play on and use of words...<3 <3 <3
Thanks for all the support @rwarriorgoddess and I'm glad it resonated!! That is highly encouraging :D
My pleasure Bro-Star d-pend. I have to give credit where credit is due!...Cheers!..:D
There is a fine line between everything....even life. Have a great day!
Nice poem!
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