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Prose Poem by Pendragon 27 Dec 2001 May
I have a second helping of ambition? Could you pass the salt, oh, and the optimism please? Woolgathering has tired me, yet the wine of aspiration is providential.
Feeding on Braincandy has yet to gratify my famished psyche. Taking
my place at the head of this tabular array of thought and circumstance, engaging the citizenry, and milking the cow for all it's worth. A road less travelled, yet look how far I've come. Consuming every moment as a measure of esteem, devouring diversity, dogma, doctrines and Dharma as if it were samosas for the soul. Jet streams and jasmine tea, I raise my goblet to honour the summits, I dine on Babelfish to appease the dwellers of Marianas. Roasted chesnuts and the sweet surrender to inevitable growth far reaching yet stationary. Fruitful savorings of ancient culture over Cognac with John Barleycorn. I harvest the chaffy grains of reason and put them in my pipe dream for a good smoke. The jaded nebulous of my vision quest seeks newborn destinations from the sweet hereafter. Climbing Llasa, sailing the Nile, riding Patagonia, walking to Mecca, dogsledding back to the Great White North...My body wracked with the pain of in-situ, my spirit awaits the tidings of a new lodestar. Economy class on this astralplane, yet my thirst is quenched on tarmac time. Inside my cauldron, I concoct a recipe for my Nirvana. Reap the whirlwind, yes I do, raven the pursuit, bask in the sentience and drink the wine from an orchard of knowledge. By:
Dinah Brown | ||
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