yes, I love my drunken humanity...

'A Bacchanal'
by Jan Brueghel the Elder and Hendrick van Balen I,
ca. 1608 - 1616, Speed Art Museum

yes, I love my drunken humanity

the countenances of my material desire
(the more folly chronicles)

every soul has bills to pay 
unless you're a willing 
participant of divination 
by electromagnetic or 
chemical means

my memory wants me past due 
somewhere on a collection plate circuit

I decree 
an end to beginnings 
so I eat connective tissue 
between holes 
where my soul gets in

no longer than rambling on 
without purpose through cycles 
and my cycling of lives 
through the windows 

I need tape for the pieces
picking locks and broken cages  
I know we now scout 
real estate outside 
the goldilocks zone 
of our little yellow star 

where the ever afters 
are lickable snippets and vignettes 
chance upon chance 
archetypes and primordials 
dance festival rituals 
sewn beneath 
whatever modernity 
seems to be 
want or need

am I among all the we 
the people of Earth 
am I a torn cut and tattered birth
am I part of meandered myriad
thrown to wolf for lion 
am I just a painted lamb 
a matter fed necessity 
in old told tales
am I tumble chili roaster spinning
choosing random for my manipulation roles
can I be construed as piper paid dearly 
not nearly wanting to be the last one left home here

EJR ©