Often

Whisky

Often, I ponder my longing to slip asunder and quietly go adrift
Like the gentle roll of distant thunder into tumbling rift of
The mind in macabre destruction, within its pliant, tendriled sheath
Does secretly hope to glean the second refrain of a rumble underneath

Our conscious longings, yay deeper still, our inner pith and pity
Seeking darker comforts with lonesome souls who trod the darkened city
Shadows, corners, alleyways immersed in deeper, blackening gloam
These haunts we lust to slip among and wake the dead to freely roam

With drunken, sodden men of old, failed in vagaries of count and toil
These found a second voice afloat in countless glass of rabble and of roil
Here to shine like Phoebe might, brothers in a wretched, faithless plight
Timidity for life that roars defiant, absent a stark, illuminating light

Those who hold the door for titans of inebriated luminescent discourse
Never long to seek the actuality of ‘a tree which speaks in Norse’
Or of religion called to question so frequently we must despatch
With needle, spoon, and dirty rag to hasten eloquence and match

Grave gentleman of standing in dens of thief and denizen where mothers
And sisters also lie in wait to catch rhetorical pestilence of these brothers
And expand upon the floating upward, and flail helplessly on the brown ceiling
Then quietly shepherd lambs to bed on soft bosoms and sound revealing

Song of all such true and proper art, all music and all language firmly melded
No more white hot the furnace burns than when nakedness is fiercely welded.
Forever equals brevity, revolution mutes in such regards;  abandonment
Of sense and sensibility in striving for the Babylon of reality – the true bard.

Morning brings light heroically fought and slayed in hours now past
And yet again immortal soul does wake and harken all to come make fast
The labor and the steady going, the baker and the shop, in tandem making haste
But here lies artist, drunk with vision, and into afternoon his day will always waste.

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About Pitboss14

Cosmic surfer of paradoxes.
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