drink and ...

pearls of murky silver, fruits of animal labour in the company of pigs saved and guarded, for the stream does not always flow. an Attila at the gates close, but never admitted tried and tested, then tried again. "this is not your home, begone." juice of yestereve unaided by the genie expressed a novice's love without hypocritic guile. Alas! this morning is here without ceremony celebrant in its monotony paving with stones, the road upon which ten thousand shall march. the heavy gourd prepared, calabashes void of seeds, seeds which sowed might have bloomed, yeilded sexually mature children. in these gallons sit the fuel that praise the chase always blessing the chase of praise albeit substance-less for it is only human speech.