Poem: Hollow Reed

bamboo_shootsNow I’m a hollow reed through which the divine may flow unimpeded

using my brain and body however needed to communicate the ineffable

to ruminate on the unknowable and unguessable,

Like why men fear the uterus. Like, who will teach and tutor us?

Like ludicrously laughable lyrics latently labeling lovable women lacking lascivious looks as un-photographable,

as irascible hos and hopeless harpies, prone to histrionic hysterics and therefore banished from the barracks

according to the orders from some sordid boardroom where the average and un-extraordinary attempt to suppress the success of the best

poets, prophets, provocateurs, auteurs of visionary visions and legendary rhymes that subtly seismically shift the dominant paradigm.

 

Now I’m a hollow reed through which the divine may flow —

Here we go, here we go, with the freestyle show

in which I spit the illest shit the critics elliptically call ‘calligraphy of the vocabulary,’

worthy of a constabulary of the peace, a justice for the least among us,

humble enough to discuss a lust for custodial control over primordial souls placed in private prisons, producing profits

for the corporate whore misfits whose unrighteous wrongs of every variety don’t belong in a recently revised decently organized society.

 

hollow reedNow I’m a hollow reed through which the divine —

will redefine the potent possibilities of human ability to use

experience, fear, tears of grief, years of personal pedantry teaching me to act as an auto-didact,

a one-man university of not quite erudite erudition granted no permission to trailblaze a salaciously audacious path.

But I did it anyways.

Hush it, children, while I crush it,

deftly deploying a magical musical lexicon from which I spawn torrid torrents of verse worthy of America’s poet laureates.

Let the glory fit the pitiful and piteous, the malformed and the hideous, the gorgeous and deplorable and adorable and every other adjective qualifier spread before us in a smorgasbord of meditationdescriptive descriptors prescribed by a licensed prescriptor of  heightened mood-lifters previously described by yours truly, your spirit guide.

I seek not fame or wealth or much of anything, really, although, according to the game of health and such I’m considered touchy-feely.

Hands on. Take charge. Personally involved. An evolved person, large of heart, charging forward, taking stands on issues and topics.

Do I rock it? Yes, I don’t and no, I do. How about you?

 

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURESCorrectly detecting what God is redirecting through the hollow reed, the me, the we, then expecting a certain set of elements to represent the end result is a fundamental folly.

You might seek a corner-store utopia filled with a cornucopia of pharmacopeia,

but life likes to frighten us into learning lessons leeringly, primarily addressing depressing desires and wanton wants, not what’s required or strictly needed.

Now I’m a hollow reed through which the divine may flow unimpeded.

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1 Response

  1. jazzypinay says:

    Wicked!