Episode of intervention


Poem Commentary

alluded to poem: http://www.originalpoetry.com/daisy

Episode of intervention

Dear ineffable companion

That’s what my philosophy professor called you

If it’s not too much trouble

prey on us.


Rob me of my false beliefs

Thieve from me my lack of insight and comprehension

Hold hostage my perpetual impulses for persiflage

Ransom my dumbdum,

So that I may speak less meek

Ransack and purge all those useless folders neatly filed in my mind


The day shuts its eyes

Now the night is alive


Flits of the past,

cause lamps on the path to flicker

persistent beacons,

reminders, that the past is not too far gone


The maze of gray folds in my mind

lead to a neglected garden

where grows

a single focused Daisy


Sardonically saluting the solution-less

a white pedal flutters

but with absolute indignation

its pistil shudders


Even in dark seclusion, bitter

that determined Daisies shadow is cast

The molesting night can't help but to lick her

leaving a little dew for her glass


For now the night seems alive

But soon the sunrise will surmise


Constellations fluctuate

as they breath in with apprehension

Neighboring stars wink back and forth

they've seen this before


The window in my attic is open

not to let out hot air

but to invite in

your cold, disapproving stare


From the path outside you look towards my attic window

and smell the familiar scent of the daisy

remembering the care it took to plant them all


Divine question:


Do you generally adhere to your laws

But when the occasion insists

insert a temporary clause?


if so,

challenge your old chum gravity that the art of inversion is dead

and watch that indifferent fool flip and kick his boots at your head


Divine ascension


Sneak in as deftly as the light creeps towards night

QUIETLY, please! I'm dreaming of my frivolous delights


I've assembled the necessary armor

alongside weapons to create the necessary clamor

they’re collected in the kitchen

spoons and forks and oven mittens

impenetrable apron

forgive me for what it’s caked in

spickle splatter

Hot soup batter

whisk my fickle matters

psst my pickled Cathars

Kettle drums for battles rhythm

Pots and pans to bang in wisdom

Won’t you let a wooden spoon be the baton

and play for the woolen moon that sagacious song?

serendipitous being, move along, to my room

ear drums are taut, ready to verberate my mind with your tune




ting... tong, tong.......... ting ting ting










The subtle stream......................................

............................. in my dream........


becomes a furious flood

and blows my eyes unshut


I look around the room and nothing is still there


I've never felt this more aware

Stranger still,

the fragrance of Daisies in the air


I feel a sudden need...to...


to just.....


just to.....caaaaaa?....creee????? crap, I lost it.


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WordSlinger commented on Episode of intervention


Awesome, I like this alot, I was with ya, my favorite part is this, and it kicks ass The window in my attic is open not to let out hot air but to invite in your cold, disapproving stare I love that part...

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

LaBOOSH’s Poems (10)

Title Comments
Title Comments
No dream control 2
Ant on a hill 2
Muses of the Past 0
Episode of intervention 1
What is as it was w/o cause for b/c? 0
A riddle all human should inherently get 1
Shall Shay deliver me? 0
she's a warrior of sorts 2
Thomas of Scotts 3
Adverse relationship 1