
Image From Pinterest
raise the ceiling
more room for incompetence
it’s only play money
borrowed with unborn hands
gilding funhouse promises
From my books Bohemian Scents and Riverthink
Image From Pinterest
raise the ceiling
more room for incompetence
it’s only play money
borrowed with unborn hands
gilding funhouse promises
From my books Bohemian Scents and Riverthink
“Mob Mentality” by Mary Jessie Sullivan
there is no I in war
no self in politics
faceless factions
more suitable units
for American bloodsport
more easily rallied
more readily drawn
into vehement battlelines
no you and me
nothing personal here
just the we and the they
the us and the them
stand in counterpoise
word-bullets fired
each volley a voice
disembodied
its speech is of no one
the audible argot of mobs
antithetical set-piece
of groupthink in wage of
distasteful philosophies
history honed to ambitious
impersonal shapes of
pure blind opposition
Image from pinterest.com
raise the ceiling
more room for incompetence
it’s only play money
borrowed with unborn hands
gilding funhouse promises
I bend into the earth
as a pig might set
nosing for truffles
except I am snuffling
for remnant scents
recently left by the
passage of virtuous
souls eyeless groping
for unrealized roots
burrows secret with
promising clutches
of eggs fingers tuned
to the dry deep baked
soil alert for the least
hint of moisture that
might just attract and
revitalize weak buried
burgeoning seeds eyes
peeled for the winged
iridescence of beetles
the track of an insect
the scrape-trace of
snail shell or scorpion
tail something anything
giving some life sign
beneath the dead floor
of this capitol desert
where even the bleached
bones of history seem
to have crumbled and
and found themselves
carried away by an
angry wind like the
friable flecks of great
parchments too long
left untended
unloved and unread
Writer Lynne Sargent
Poetry Puttering by Pax & Company
Sometimes everything has to be enscribed across the heavens so you can find the one line already written inside you. Sometimes it takes a great sky to find that small, bright, and indescribable wedge of freedom in your own heart. David Whyte
"drink from the well of your self and begin again" ~charles bukowski
no dust here
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I am where the valleys are deep, the mountains are high, and the wind moans through trees...