Poetry

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Two faux sticks intersecting with an earthen vessel- dj eckert

Two fake sticks intersecting with an earthen vessel- dj eckert

A
sharp
edged
stick
stands
sternly
sitting.
Silently
sounding,
beating,
stirring,
emitting...
Into the air
a grating,
noisy,
self righteous,
smoggy,
disonant,
repugnant,
tone.

This sharp, stern, stick
has in his nature, the urge,
to do nothing more than to sanctimoniously scrape, beat or stir .

The "cross-ways", careless, haughty gaze, served callously with a condescending, premature,
kiln ready lawful glaze...
that is somehow
thought of as earned ...
causes a softer SEEMING
and insidiously slick, sneaky stick
to slither under that disonant smog...
enticing misguided views to an observer, of a Master Potter,
Who's wheel won't turn!

Then, as the world's wicked winds blow, the works of that soft, sneaky stick grow.
Driving weary and fragile, refuge seeking earthenware to congregate
under the judgemental, and lawful stare of the sharp stick, that is...
stirring or beating or scraping in "there", the stick's lair. (the self righteous church)


As the LIVING,
FLOODING WATERS pound down...
That sneaky stick...well, he starts heading for higher ground...
BUT,
that
stern
sharp stick,
instead,
entices him to stay...
poking around.
Burrying himself
in the newly formed, soft and muddy
ground!

Though a stick can be wisely wielded with LOVE ...
And stir, or scrape up an earthy vessel's passions,
or beat down it's yeasty suds...

Sometimes ...

A
stick
is just
REALLY
sneakily....
a soul smashing! and slithering!,
sabotaging and devouring,
Satanic, soul stealing stick in the mud!

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