Ripened Rainbows

If it's tangible, it's worthless...

Peace is mocked by the quiet

When we stitch kisses upon a “Shush”

And sell fertile minds 

Once fermenting under tongues

To an undisclosed repose 

And suppose

We will sleep to the weep of lullabies 

While yawns devour our dreams

Under wan moonbeams

And time flies by with plumes soaked 

In the afterglow 

Of a madman’s promise

How long until rainbows ripen

And we cease plucking smiles

From thorns and thistles?

For I remember a gray man’s beard 

Dribbling wisdom into my soil 

And in due season whiskey willows wilted into words

On my skin that inked:

“Happiness never bleeds from seeds caught 

In our fingertips

Neither does a winter rose satisfy 

A warm nose”

Yet we perch ourselves in the thickest brambles

Eating the foliage of bruised fruit

Wondering if “this time” 

The taste will differ

I wish to stay as they 

--eating wormwood on polished china

With overgrown silverware--

But the burn of whiskied wisdom 

Drowns my tongue

And I find that my feet don’t curve 

Around the branches

As they should

A drunken stumble to the rest

And a truth they throw to the birds

But I unstitch my mouth

Find the words 

And dribble the revelation 

To the nation as it stands: 

That rainbows have never been formed

By man’s hands

Author's Note

Growing a bit tired of the prevailing attitudes around me. Everyone believes themselves to be wise... but whose wisdom have you acquired?
I'll leave the interpretation of every inked word up to you.

Reviews

[NoneOfYourBusiness akaK..]

the images and subtle plot points didn't miss their mark~you let fly arrows like a modern day oracle in latex dreams sipping cream from the surface of the clouds of thought matter of men~ my personal third eye sucked it up and emnroidered a fable~ my mind works through the poetic platter much like one tastes wine~ the bouqet~the sip~the swirl~ the only difference is I do not spit I swallow~ =)~

on a less scandalous interpretable note what I spy with my cyclopean lollipop eye is this delicate girl and it is the delicacy which makes her powerful~ she is ambling around a thousand ash tables seating a thousand men made of shiny refuse you'd find in comglomerate minotaur dumpsters~she has sparrow legs and footsies~she is serving them something amber~something not quite as quaint as her demure eyelashes of onyx~ and as she turns what we find is a beautiful circlet of a dark hole in the side of her left temple~but it's alright because it's not a wound but Orion cleansing pandora's feet~ of course it is drwan in star patterns and sun flares~ and it's these sun flares dripping liquid down the side of her cheeks and filling all the cups she is to deliver to these hard men made of shiny refuse~ the question is~as always~who will be the first to drink~ oh what you do to me PsychedelicProphetess crunching illusions down the sidewalk~leaving fragments of dreams to be found in each and every stilleto print left behind. . . .

[Just Jayren]

I can feel a overwelming sense of passion here, and you express distaste in a very professional mannor. I enjoyed reading this, I can see you have little fear in your work which is much to be admired

[Audrey Howitt]

This is a piece I could read again and again--it feels both visual and visceral to me---I haven't read much of your work yet, but would like to read more-

[Robin]

you ever watch a mime, their hands against the invisible wall or glass , puzzlement on their face , that painted face in a silent world , and the crowd goes - meh , and they walk on by , their nose in the air , their nose to the grindstone of mundane and they wonder why , why not , why them as they stare into the mirror and wonder ... all the while missing it - the wonder

such a poet

[Me]

A soul searching piece....well written

[Kerry O'Connor]

I drink up your words like one dying of thirst in a desert.

[Aidz]

Love it when a write gives me tingles as this one did..... Melted into the rainbows formed in words lulled into thought... superb

[OT]

ohhhhh love it!!! descriptions just flow from your pen - your hands certainly curve around the most intriguing of images! - "How long until rainbows ripen
And we cease plucking smiles
From thorns and thistles?" and "I wish to stay as they
--eating wormwood on polished china
With overgrown silverware--" - LOVE! brilliantly done Shawny nice to see new words here!!