"uninitiated" poems
*Feelin’ like a new model keepin’ thoughts in a safe
Nothin’ but new beginnings while maintainin’ the faith
Of better days ahead, walkin’ away instead
The world on my shoulders while walkin’ on eggshells
Difficult steps lead to redemption, no need for attention
Dowsin’ my sorrows in drinks with a fear of reinvention
Weakened souls lackin’ ambition – ones that we attend to
Distracted by the means to makin’ profit
Pharaohs and kings reach Ozymandias
Castle of the manliest reduced to rubble
Inspiration's a privilege, the uninitiated struggle
Lookin’ to the stars closer to Mercury
Celebrating longer than a single anniversary
Build the padlocked building blocks of the brain, preventin’ burglary
Intellect protection needs remedial advancement
Followin' the lessons and morals of real testaments
Crimson waters divided by Moses, halving the sea
Aidin’ people across, the shepherd leadin’ the sheep
Heated cycle of violence by disciples
De-escalated by the sacred teachings of the bible
Able to color-code their understandin’ with a cipher
Gifted in nature, minus robotics turnin’ sentient*
WE MARCH!
*Hand-in-hand in unison! A unit full of sin
But we protect the world from Judases,
Our doubts are in the wind
A state of peace we feel the crew is in
The rest will follow soon,
Our inner voice of hate is ludicrous
It sings a hollow tune.
Leavin' this place without askin' just where the exit is,
Keep a steady pace as we're headin' right into exodus.
Lessons are taught to help you rise from the fall,
Nirvana awaitin' – you better answer the call.*
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 9:53 AM UTC
Her greatest fear was
going color blind,
invoking domino effect,
she embraced rainbow colors-
whenever a chance she found.
Now, she walks at the front
as if she is the official bearer of colors
in our frenzied blueberry hunt,
up in the high ranges of Western Ghat's
tropical rain forests.
Our nostrils are special,
"colors we see, make us madly sing"
chants rend the air when-
fragrance of ***** blooms wafted in the air.
"Just like the smell when python opens mouth"
said a voice, to the uninitiated,
"Quit white, paint everything coal black,
or is it the other way round?"
"This place is magical can't make a choice"
"Look! I found a serious irregular lake down there"
"I didn't realize I was walking in rounds, around a closed mall"
"White light is a cheat, pixie laid us is in the village green"
"Y'll fall down"
"Green was what i asked for
got thick,red, gooey mud"
"Why panic?"
"Hey meet Mr.Yellow smile,
kiss him a pretty, magenta
***** thought, good night"
"I've a deep blue psyche,
in nightmares I see ***** whales"
"Wounded bleeding heart,
she was nursed back to health
it beats me,
she limped back to her old green monster"
"Hear that distant drums?
brick red monster of the woods
mating with a black cat"
"A ritual of the tribes?
is it meant as a crude joke?"
Sitting under a tree shade,
I hear for the first time in my life,
a white ant's dark wintry song,
lilting, it spoke about the life
as the queen ant's *** slave.
**"Hey love this ***** magical feat,
anything is possible,
how reality takes a beat"
**** it, three times over,
on the bank of the river, then in water.."**
"Blue grass, blue grass
sing all the way up to the mountain pass,
where ***** plants grow thick like ***** thoughts,
a nightingale in funky dress
singing ***** songs and regale all"
"That lush lass, her hair tied with a red bandana
is a smart *** **** her"
Someone screams in delight,
evening spreads a magical light,
more laughter, catcalls,
the sassy chick just LOL
Pass..pass
A big headstrong hornbill, surveying the scene,
gives a mating call
the hillside reverberates with its sound.
(C) K.Balachandran
[email protected]
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 7:19 AM UTC
Like Falcons, Kestrels and Hawks
They swoop low to look and stalk
Holding breath for silence sakes
Looking for gullible easy prey
Talons around the throats of the genteel and shy
Uncaring of flowing tears, they make them cry
Recalling a sunny day so bright
When clawed and swooped in delight
Not knowing the heart that would break
That day, piercing ties did penetrate
Learning others spirits would wound
As the Falcon made his way around the night for doom
As his blackness did loom
All were hurt, tears were shed
Face after face he did skim
Heart rending cries that were abhor
For them no tears no more
Never spoken to again, they might
the evil kin do they despise
Torment and cruelty they do throw'
Gnashing one's teeth thinking about ado,
Bruises of blue they carry, bleeding of heart
A cold sweat trickling down the spine, apart.
Take away the face oh please
leave life alone, let all be in peace
Pain and heartache that created, O' bemoan
Saying and caring, oh no just want to be left alone ...
For the uninitiated, lonely hearts
Lending tears of sorrow, leaving soul debased
Romance here, a wild goose chase
Holds so many as the Falcons swoop again ...
Debbie Brooks 2014
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 7:49 PM UTC
Pub poetry is a form of performance poetry consisting of the shouted word which has developed in UK urban pubs, dating back to the 1940s and 50s. Words are typically yelled over ambient haphazard rhythms which are not especially chosen for the piece of poetry, rather the poetry is performed over the generic sound of empty bottles and part filled glasses and live samples of patron conversation that will be familiar to those frequenting hostelries around the UK.
Sometimes the audience will employ call and response devices to distract the poet, such as calls of "W##k-er!', with the traditional response of "F##k-You!" before the pub poet continues with his yelled out verse, often read from the beer stained back of an overdue envelope.
The pub poet usually appears on a chair or table, surrounded by immediate family or work mates cheering him on.
Invariably inebriated, the pub poet may not appear to make any sense to the uninitiated - but once you too have availed yourself of your 4th or 5th pint, the words become clearer and easier to appreciate.
No musicality is built into pub poems and pub poets generally perform without backing music, delivering chanted speech with pronounced modulation, broken-rhythmic accentuation and dramatic, though random, stylization of gestures, often resulting in the pub poet losing balance and sustaining a head injury thereby losing consciousness and bringing the evening's entertainment to a premature, but often welcome, end.
It is often noted that many pub poets are remarkably shy and retiring when sober.
Dec 17, 2019
Dec 17, 2019 at 2:38 AM UTC
IF you are not a tantric how could you know tantric have secrets?
How did you know Freemasons in the lodge hidden away
have secrets too?
This is tantrism
We know tantra means loom weaving, but what is woven together?
Like the right and left hands grasping…is that where true prayer happens?
*opposites magnetic
union pragmatic
cosmic dramatic*
*dharmma and a-dharmma ,
duty and rule breaking
Sage or Demon, *
the tantric sees the fullness of the tapestry
before it is woven
Fire, Earth, Water, and Wind…
The breeze blows and There I am
Masculine power seems to require hierarchy
to pass on the sounds of the absurd
So if you hear their's in secret
and bring to bear its use
you may will fail…
but
if an enlightened woman, warm with shakti glowing gives it to you
hold on
for it is yours
This keeps the inside safe from the outside.
Keeping harm from the uninitiated.
How many secrets do you really know?
the 108 sanguine rose beads keep track
like divine fingers across an abacus
tracing the age of the cosmos
Would be immortals know of 5 dangerous things that could swallow you
What do you know of the imbibement of
meat-fish-wine
Next
Was it secret gestures or parched grain???
Symbols set to confuse the rest
the secret remains the same
Forbidden in kind
the ****** relates to the mind
being undone, Mold Antipode to the Classic Culture
the mortal and immortal
human and divine
are secrets Immortal?
Like Ouroboros the Consumption may consume you…or free you.
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 1:36 PM UTC
That droll, little romance
was my first cigarette
an Indonesian clove cigarillo.
A year or two gone now,
but I still remember the sensation,
all the adrenaline and the drugs!
It was that nice, accurate drag,
that perfect ****
of smoke and nicotine.
Love was a potent buzz.
It had laughter.
The high.
It - the passion and ardor -
...so good.
And the subsequent addiction!
I craved it,
took more than there was.
Smoked it to the ****
so fast
it was over before I realized it.
All that remained:
the fizzle of tobacco embers,
the quick-to-dry sweat
of the uninitiated.
Then the desperation.
I wanted it to work!
I smacked my lips for more of the sweetness.
Searched desperately inside
for only a sickness in my stomach
and poison on my tongue.
I’ve stopped smoking now,
but I will always be
just a little closer
to death
than I should be.
Oct 6, 2012
Oct 6, 2012 at 1:45 AM UTC
Neuroeconomic
Amalgam
Uninitiated
But prescient
Drumming to remember
All last September
Kernels
Nuggets
Mirroring
Neurons
Can take down
Neocons
\|/
Signals
/|\
Subtle infrequent
Lullabies flow into
A numinous bassline
Reverberating Ohm
Indivisible
Mitosis
Becoming us
As the egg aspires
Divine feminine
Holding space
For the new
Phoenix rising
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
Muhammad Ali- Poster,personification and Palsy
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
When I was young,I had posters of only two;
Bruce Lee and Muhammad Ali ,you.
I was uninitiated to understand Che Guevara.
Frankly,my dear; I had no clue.
Rest in Peace, Muhammad Ali ,Sir.
A part of my childhood and adolescence goes with you.
From Cassius Clay,the champion
to Muhammad Ali,
With the whole world as his nation,
You were an awesome thing to happen to religion.
A naive thought-One may argue.
But I was small then,
it was a child's view.
My young mind questioned,
how could you float like a butterfly
and how could your punch be
like the sting of a bee?
It was you who made me understand,
what Metaphors do.
You began to move slow.
I saw you shaking too.
Your body suffered,
but you remained unshaken.
More than what it could,
You allowed me to know,
What this 'Shaking Palsy' could not do.
Rest in Peace,
I bid adieu.
It all feels strange,
this world is new.
But the World is not that brave.
Muhammad Ali, Sir,
without you.
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 6:20 PM UTC
*the man of light
knows darkness all to well
he possess sacred knowledge
of source
a living experience with in
radiant
and self effulgent
he knows all is permitted
in the acculturated labyrinths of mind
rooted in bias
and incalculable distortions
a hell house ride
constructed of warbled mirrors
Leprechauns gold
an abusement park
of crepuscular
subconscious ethers
and concertized form
on shape shifting sands
creativity gone mad
where time undoes all
its weary inhabitants worn
they are the color of sleep
attaining misguidance
oh the vacuous business
of guided meditations
through azure skies and verdant fields
while the certified uninitiated
whisper
their pale voices against sonorous winds
as if they could lever boulders with broken twigs
stone churches
gothic crosses
temples of man
monoliths to the imaginary
fantastical man god
re-pleat with beard and cock....how quaint
adulations and prostrations
to there man made deity
through myth that binds
group think
other directed
un-individuated individuals
like tribal ants
a world of shattered light
a white knuckle ride
on a spinning mud ball
yet who knows the secret
of the inner light
the illuminated door
the portal through which
Scottie will really beam you up
The man of the mystic light
in a darkened freakish world
is he not an inconvenience
like a mentor to the deaf dumb and blind
he is rarely recognized
almost never believed
the light is not a metaphor
the source that emanates all
although formless and self effulgent
it is not a religion yet all abide with in it
in the dark funnel of conceit
man turns everything into a noun
as if naming is claiming
when what he seeks is beyond
for it is a great dimension of another order
konx om pax
light in extension*
Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 1:08 PM UTC
*This woman is a chameleon,
how her hues change!
she is the conqueror-
wearing the false hues of the conquered;
a desire for perfect conquest, in disguise.
She instinctively find
what she wants to conquer,
from among the smiles
identifying the heart of her like,
from its invisible presence,
from a distance.That one moment
qualifies her as a magician of heart strings.
Her studied indifference now
is a tacit invitation
to get near her,
though concealed in many layers.
She makes sure he doesn't
miss the message,
but for the uninitiated
it goes invisible.
Sly looks he send now and then,
when she moves closer, his whisper:
"Don't you hear what my heart says?"
his half smile is being reciprocated,
what was made to look like reluctance
was in fact a challenge
for him to go and get
what he wanted,
not as a gift, but
as a hard earned asset.
He thinks she was the best
he has ever set his eyes on.
They hit it off in a bit.*
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
To be ginger in a heatwave
is to know that a surfeit of energy
that enthrals the populace
has consequence
Like any addict with an allergy
landed on a thing they love
you learn to skirt and sample
knowing sickness follows
The uninitiated will gorge and fall
swearing off the juice for good
and withdrawing a raised voice
which is bad
Pace yourselves for the longness
of an unexpected summer
so that when winter hits
we continue to burn
Jun 24, 2020
Jun 24, 2020 at 12:04 PM UTC
Rise up placid moon,
Through narrow bands of fiery cotton *****
From indigo to cobalt blue sky
Your motion, docile and free
And that sliver of silver light
Your cycles are said to guide the uninitiated
When you are full, they burst
For you are the light of the underworld
Full to new, new to full, and everything in between
Your shadow hides a secret as does mine
But yours is easier to reveal
There will come a day when earth shall release its bond
And you will be free from earthly influence
Just as death will discharge this soul
To meander from our earthly bodies
Free from the confluence that is body and soul
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 6:45 AM UTC
Thoth,
with the teaching of the Head...
First Scribe,
seated at the edge of Evenings Dark Listening..
Fear Sign to the unInitiated
Next, a Horse.
Clear attribute of Equus
A Flash of things Past and Present,
Love seen in instant replay.
And Finally, the Trophy.
Sweet reminder of the Temple of Artemis
Now Gone..Sacrificed by the many...
White Shadows Arrival,
as the Head of A Goat...
Reminder of Gods Life.
Hidden Message:
Growth Sacrifice.
Now Built: Fearless Head of the Ram
Chi,
Drawn, for the Fish within the river
And X,
Burnt Offering,
for the people within the Cross
Growth Offering,
Destroyer of Flesh
and Origin of All Life
Now Is Your Witnessing Victorious.
For the Body has been taken
But not the Head
Who so ever leaves such Knowledge lying around
Is a Fool to another Man's Victory.
and a tear, in the Heart of God.
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 9:58 PM UTC
Majorca, a playground for the young
a sequinned island, sparkling with gold
sandy beaches, limestone mountains
and sheltered coves
a mediterranean island
rich with citrus plantations
and culture centuries old.
Where tradition seeps into cavities
and impregnates the uninitiated
leaving you saturated
with enthusiasm
and passion.
A spirited place,
a tranquil sanctuary
where you want
your ashes to face
the wind and stay
forever within
it's shores.
Majorca
a wonderful
place with
memories
drenched
into my
pores.
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 3:16 PM UTC
It was a new day,
As I suited up for battle,
A new campaign,
Something sure to leave the uninitiated rattled.
A polo shirt to defend against the piercing stares of haughty individuals,
A thermos of coffee,
To brain the sandman with when he arrived with reinforcements mid morning,
Neatly combed hair to camouflage myself as just another drone,
Plucking away and invisible to predators.
As I sit down at my desk
I take a look out the window at the rain,
And imagine I was out in it,
For the rain is much more enjoyable.
But fear not,
I still have my secret weapon,
Devastating to the enemies of fun.
A power so great it will ensure that I will never fully succumb to the forces of drudgery.
I raise my pantleg a bit to take a peek at my crazy socks,
Instantly making my day better
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 9:32 AM UTC
Occasionally one may feel fear's fast grip
But let us not be governed by its restrictive embrace
So the fear of death may not control our actions
May the fear of living never penetrate our minds,
And depart from whoever's in which it resides
Let the fear of our temporary state scare us not
Let the fear of the uncertainty of our tomorrow govern us not
Rather, let it's constant ******* at our heel motivate us
Motivate us to believe in the abilities we have,
And to learn new ones as well
Motivate us to reach heights inconceivable to those whose minds and hearts have not been freed
Heights which only a man freed may attain
A man freed of the darkness that inhabits everyone's soul
Freed of the fear of the unknowable nature of our futures that consumes us all
Embracing that fear so he can transcend death,
And be remembered beyond the many years he will grace this earth
Remembered for the heights he reached
Remembered for the people he chose to lead up to join him
Because he did not succumb to the malice of condescension
But was a Sherpa to the uninitiated
Giving these freed minds a new perspective
That they may soar to unimagined places
To which they will lead him and us in train
Perpetuating the chain of incredible events
Till we can finally reach our Elysian dreams
Started, not by a people of untold knowledge and wealth,
But by the one who decided to live without fear
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC
its nice to be in shape
buffed up
in mannequin world
ive frequented gyms
for years
i like nice bodies
to often though
thats where nice
stops
while
nomadic
cliques
of
self admiring gym gods
squeeze out their last
leg press
bench press
laughing
slappin five
indulging
in the theater of
acoustic grunts
a public exhibition
of self aggrandizement
while the lost
uninitiated
look on
progress-less
who fear being objectified
while obsessed
objectify themselves
they
wana be icons too
magnets of adoration
unable to imagine
that their imagine-less
waxed bleached buffed
and mute
muzzled
by group think
desolated hungry women
terrified
by the direct approach
in avoidance
of the blood hot glance
liking to believe its their mind
that should excite
testosterone soaked men
these young women
pretending not to care
and show their
come **** me daddy
tears of desire
dreaming of the one
turning down the fleshy offerings
of Aphrodite
with eyes that say
i don't think so
for fear of being called a *****
in Mannequin World
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 5:36 PM UTC
Sheet music for the uninitiated.....
Tis like a foreign language inked out
Aligning the page from left to right
Spelling a noted curiosity. For those in the know
‘Get’ the inside story, know the melody it plays
Yet it shuts out and discriminates the uninitiated
It closes in and becomes a circle, a clicky cliché
A secret sect for them and not the rest
The page can be left open for the uninitiated
And its secret remains safely intact
Even as eyes are cast over its score
There’s a silence, a secret coded verse
Playing and taunting you, unashamed
To reveal its melodic soul, fully knowing your
Not invited even if you want to be
Until tis ready to.........
Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 9:23 AM UTC
Ardently you sought me, your perfect partner
in the planned, ****** crime extraordinaire,
all I needed to say,was "yes I am game"
Nothing more than our bodies commanded,
yet, I did that because it is you, who'd be in
the other side of the bed, that pleases me a lot.
You were an unknown and rare perfume
that I long sought, but failed to lay my hands on,
every amorous eye, falling on you,would attempt
fornication,vicarious, but all were in vein, of course
then, your eyes fell on mine, though you'd have loved
it to happen the other way round for more perfection.
Both of us are, those ones who walk that extra mile
in any kind of ****** adventure, without inhibition
if the idea originally occurred without instigation.
for us "Kamasutra"in it's real potential,is yet to be invented.
You always had thought that you were the game changer,
but now realize, things aren't the way you expected!
How could you imagine, I still am uninitiated
in this genre,passion play we put our body and mind
a flaw you should have avoided, in the first place.
Now,make up for the lost time.Do the thing in earnest,
why don't you ascertain the facts before begining?
One presumes that things move the way one plans
with out considering the significant other playing!
playground of cupid remains a field of pleasant surprises.
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 8:57 AM UTC
Do we dare to tell
Our secrets to the uninitiated
Afraid to dance
We took a chance and it backfired
I know that sometimes
I can be impossible to tolerate
And if we congratulate ourselves
Too often, we will be mistaken
For unfaithful lovers
So please do not awaken us
No matter what time the clock says
Sep 22, 2019
Sep 22, 2019 at 2:36 PM UTC
before
we
know
kindness
we are silly moons
a primal scream
ids
gaggle of wants
having not yet understood
our own vulnerability
and its connection to others
the agony of self
uninitiated
by the sacrifices yet to come
in effect a criminal mind
as a child growing up in brooklyn
my friends and i would
make a mad dash
out of ching-a-lings
chopsuey restaurant
after eating sumptuously
with out paying the bill
electrified with terror and excitement
at the thought of being grabbed
by a chinese boogy man
and laughing breathless
when finally
out of harms way
sadistically delighting
by the panic
we caused
as some red faced hyperventilating waiter
caved trying to catch
five little hell boys
fury fast
all adults
were filthy rich
compared to us urchins
idling in the darkness and tenements
sniffing glue
in a number 2 brown paper bag
hole in the pocket poor
slow starters
uninspired
pressing through
the dragging weight
of a barren world
not yet knowing
we too will toil endlessly
worry sick for loved ones
and quake at endless indignities
trying to eek out a living
like the waiter we robbed of his pittance
on this Sisyphean rock
our lives
stretched out before us
a white knuckle ride
between hope
and quiet desperation
struggling not to be swallowed
through pitted black holes
and fake floors
into downward mobility
our pin ball souls
like small metal *****
jarred and knocked
from one ringing bell to the next
in a turbulent game
player or not
without an inkling
of the fated
dark signature
written into our genes
by deaths hand
before
we
know
kindness
Jan 31, 2017
Jan 31, 2017 at 7:42 PM UTC
Because in all the insidious cases, it is a home-based canteen of soul-killing, mind-boggling, headache cats! Ordinary alcohol - s gossip clouds billowing at jaccudzi parties filling the court fools! The dog-flash game of dog comedies is followed by more and more popular fun! The vulnerable man is already prostituting himself! There is also a shadow over the ****** ***** gates of the Universe; diligent *** fleas fatten greedy greedy and insatiable elephants!
Lurking-polite idle boys can always stay on the go! he jerks into an unspeakable deep stack who wakes up to a sobering daze without the love of Loyalty! Ordas-whimsical merriment-pleasures are combined with incredible creativity! - The legitimate V.I.P. sense of life is concreted into the public consciousness as an unbreakable shell! Appearance The shores of America are still moving further and further away from a hundred-year lag prospect! They perform a complete power outage in tangled brains! The whole ruction always starts with a selfish leech attachment!
Can everyone just become a cheap toy in the hands of bad guys?! Slave-fought billion-dollar ********** dives play with each other as uninitiated silk chipendale boys! Their player veins are getting hotter and more unquenchable! Wild cats rattling on command and ringing their chains can easily become tamed kittens! In their Haddelhadd memories you can hardly find anyone who could show understanding empathy for little boy sadness! - The kneaded addict does not voluntarily consume performance-enhancing steroids; in stripped-down animalized instincts it is becoming increasingly difficult to find the True and Sincere happiness of this tiny existence!
Apr 6, 2021
Apr 6, 2021 at 1:55 AM UTC
A song only heard at night
A fragrance that floods the mind with lost memories
A soul of obfuscation
Transcending the ways of man
Staring down the duplicity of happenstance
I crawl through a landscape, alien to the uninitiated.
In strict cadence to the night song
The smell of burnt sandalwood emasculates the soul
Afar off, you glimpse a shape that once meant something to you
An amorphous shadow
Do you give life to a memory?
Or Ashes to Ashes
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 9:15 AM UTC
The uninitiated pandering to the lowest common denominator,
the clean cut ************ in sophomoric rhetoric,
"Sick" he says,
"Addicted" he says,
Like,
"I haven't seen the girl I have a crush on in almost 24 hours and I feel.......like......
Withdrawing.
Itchy,
Nauseous,
Angry,
Vomiting,
Like I've got insects EVERYWHERE,
MY BODY IS THE ENEMY,
OPEN REVOLT OF THE AFFECTED CELLS,
(THEY'RE ALL AFFECTED BY NOW)
There is no escape there is no relief there is nothing to be done but wait it out,
One day clean,
Two days clean,
Three days clean,
Maybe, this will pass,
NO IT WILL NOT
Four days later, a glimpse, relapse, progress undone, back to 0, the sickness is inevitable, I'm going to die like this"
When was the last time you looked into the ravenous ****** eyes of the masses, and what did you learn from this?
Not enough
Grow up.
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 12:05 AM UTC
What if the town of Mayberry wasn’t
Exactly “white”?
Some of it would be of course
But what if most was “not quite?”
And whom?
They all look the same.
The same arms.
The same hands.
Creamy, milky blanched and not exactly pink even in soapy dishwater.
It does explain why there aren’t really any children.
That would give one away
That tawny skin
That curious hair and inky eyes
Aunt Bea, her nose is a little wide perhaps and yet...
Well Sheriff Andy sure can sing and his hair has just the slightest suggestion of a wave.
Otis’s lips are full and plump.
His face is round not square.
He is the most unassuming and
gentlemanly of criminals.
He locks himself up at night when it’s called for.
Sshhh
Is this why everyone is so frozen?
Not one foot put wrong even
in a solemn country way?
The secret getting out?
People wouldn’t understand.
And they’re out there far off by a stream
There could be trouble
And who’s who?
And who’s what?
We sit and watch the glow of quiet spectacle.
The pantomime of the solicitude.
The church raffle.
The apple pie.
The charade where no one knows the answer
If you were uninitiated maybe you would never know.
Imagine the stillness.
Now Opie you stay out of the sun!
But Pa!
I mean it. Now go do as you’re told and get ready for supper.
Oh alright.
They sit quietly around the table
Drinking iced tea and smiling
Nothing’s moving.
You sure know how make a fine piece of
Pie Aunt Bea!
Oh Andy!
No elbows on the table.
Why yes Sir.
Why no Ma’am.
Look, my hair is blond
And my eyes are a funny golden brown
I have a lot of freckles and when it rains
my hair does not know what to do
I wear it in a long braid down my back, tight
Someday I’ll meet a nice blond man and he’ll take me away from here.
I’ll stay out of the sun most days and our children
will be perfect.
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 5:34 PM UTC