Constipated Words

Life passes through our words

constipated like a bowel movement

stuck in its scratchy reluctance

to breathe the same smoky air

the periwinkle trails wreathe,

resisting the green and the pearly white,

the scarlet-scattering dim moon light.

Our words may be tight and brown

smushed between our lofty eyes, but

this world was built on ancient words -

musical notes that formed fierce waves

in beautiful orders, rising and falling

sharp and flat in interweaving winds,

like a familiar song in the woods

at dawn, with warblers hopping one tiny

branch to another in yellow bursts -

these world creating words descended

upon our thrashing wave thrown world

like a counter-balancing tsunami,

where wave and trough cancel each other

in opposing sines. These scenic

words spawned dew from the spray of the

highest land-breaking wave, drifting

with the salt and the semen of life

toward the slow drying mud lands,

growing the curious mud people.

Bring me to these forgotten forlorn

worlds, waves of warbler wafted words

creating the moss and the lichen, the

rusted brick and algae covered gutter,

the oily ocean and the warming clouds,

pearly whites and black tar;

these blind visions of happy heaven and

gnawing hell impress me into drink,

an intoxicating mixture of slurred

creative words and duck-billed platupi,

lost between the drowned lake-weeds

and the sun-burnt rye grass - 

mistakes are the loins of creativity.

I wipe my mind with words tarnished

in yesteryear's cutting edge insights

dulled only by their recycled tedium,

the cold breath of once upon a time

sages spread their old beneficent

experiences upon our globally warmed

minds, implacable and unthawed -

our words no longer sit immobile and

contemplative...they jumble and bumble

into each other, crashing thought into

thought, lapsed like a word ex nihilo,

ex cathedra, exited in our self righteous

babbling towers of fundamental particles -

our words bounce about unbonded

by our own ancient God-imaged personness,

limping along in primordial muck

without a righteous thought to fuck...