There are times when I go quiet

Don't know what to say

Don't know what to do

At such times I am reminded of the quote

By Maurice Switzerland

"It is better to remain silent

At the risk of being thought a fool,

Than to talk and remove all doubt of it."

Bubbling molten gurgles in the belly
Ready to surge and burst through convention,
Burning its way
Through convenient lies like a blow torch;
Scorching pure flesh on the way
To bring awful clarity.

Salt tears wash the grit from reddened eyes
And hearts rise as searing lava obliterates the ego.
Purpose may crystallise as the magma cools
But for most of us; shaken
We limp back to the habits of our
regular lives.

She bounded into the room brim full,
Buoyant and bubbling; bouncing
With bonhomie.
Like an ever expanding balloon, she filled the space and flattened other Guests
Against the wall.
Filling their mouths with her rubbery taste.

She swelled again
And they shrank.
Conversation shrivelled,
Guests snivelled.
'Was it something I said?'

She oozed herself between chatting pairs
And insinuated herself into private conversations
Offering unsolicited advice.
She broke the spell of lovers' eyes and blocked the path of their gaze.
Two glasses of wine and the volume soared.
Three and the tone soured.

Bored, she wandered into the night.
She sighed.
The house sighed.
The hostess sighed.
Her friends sighed
And all for different reasons.

Poetry effervesces from the soul
Sparkling to the surface effortlessly in tiny
Disconnected bubbles.
No champagne can capture the
Joy of rising bubbles from within.

Sometimes it
pops up
Sweet and salty like popcorn;
Exciting, fresh and crisp.

Or it rumbles up from a deep well of fire
And spits
Out
Red and hot, searing and purging
From a swirling mass of magma.

Fireworks don't come easily and fizz and pop and die-
Champagne has to wait in cold and dark-
Popcorn cannot nourish and bubbles simply pop!
But diamonds deftly cut can  clarify.