Tuesday, September 1, 2015




My current notebook bares a heart
shaped insignia of a Bodhi Leaf
Sanskrit derivative of
Enlightenment in three degrees
like an elevator of transcendental
Social status evolution
as we know it spannered
into an ideal of reverse
by the notion of an altruistic

No denial of my residence in
the first degree
The King
Self-absorption's sauntering insinuation
of a consequence inherently bequeathed upon
the basement of a pecking order
in the wake of inky rigor mortis
stiffening a signature
cementing laws with liquid words
No denial of this mindset
if only for the forging of a mental sword
to mutilate rebellions of inferiority complexes
notifying me of my inferiority as any kind of king
for I have not correctly done the math equating
my necessity with the security
of all connected to me by the written sinews
of my declarations
which in time erode to revelations

Stunted by a muddled amalgam
of my deepest fear and the most
applicable of this triumvirate of
transcendental occupations
The Boatman
Transportation is the sweet
agglutinative in the fibers of my dreams
Self-equipped sarcasm tells me not
to be surprised that the transporting must
commence across a river
Home to a prospective waterlogging of the lungs
(An image that disquiets me as much as
the resultant drown would quiet me)
Self-awareness situates me
back into the realm of symbolism
Still I'm only qualified to take you far
as my most uneffusive boat of syntax
similes and sheepish wit (and alliteration)
will go amid the river of a mindset that renders
every day a rain delay
I would stutter out a wish
that I could drive you all instead
but a rogue wire in the mindset took
my license to boot

Bitter still
berating fate's harping foreclosure of
my driving privileges
I am beset by insecurities inferred
before I was a king
At the gates of this determinate degree
I hope voraciously that my instincts
have shorted in the rain
A shepherd will endure the hardest hammering
of rain upon his head until his flock is herded
into shelter
The Shepherd
A sort of anthro-counterpart
to The King's poison tester
All manner of self-welfare
shunned to the extent that one is unsure
of who's subservient to who
I fear that I have failed you
Am I still so fervently addicted to my own
catharsis that I've left you nothing but
a self-indulgent boat of holes?
Have I pulled you through a lengthy poem
with a level of delusion levied to the likes of

My current notebook bares a heart
shaped insignia of a Bodhi Leaf
The emblem of
A genuine intent to counter others' suffering
with bliss
A state a writer hopes to emulate through
shared understandings
Or catharsis
with luck

Steven Fortune Poet

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