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A Lapse; A Leap Into The Profane

Updated on June 19, 2013

Beanstalks growing,

beanstalks growing!

A revolution beings.

“Impossible.” are the murmured

statements whispered

here and there.

Questions asked and incredulous

answers perceived as the

beanstalks reach for the Heavens,

as if to say; 'Climb down me giants,

I may just reach you.'

The spelled winds ripen and

monsoons come to wipe away

a village. They don’t.

But mud and floods remain.

Her mascara runs black, her eyes dark and dirty

Her laughter wheezy as she scrambles for the little boy.

Snatching his hand away from his weeping mother, she ties

his fathers fingers into knots.

Forced to his knees in obeisance;

Like bubble-bath the ground opens and into the floor he


A lapse,

A leap into the profane

As you turn away in pursuit

She kneels before the wholly uncomprehending mystery.

As she steeps,

Justification; a blanket she wraps around her

Riding on a scallop shell, and born of foam

She cuts the strings

A dance of black-guarding had begun.

Yielding lovely visions

In the face of cold material laws

Athena springs from the Brain of Zeus the goddess of wisdom.
Athena springs from the Brain of Zeus the goddess of wisdom. | Source

He picks his instrument

Flowing from his tongues

A lame smith turns his sights

And braids of hair fall from his head

And invented – a wisdom

Of a warrior

A messenger- a thief of god.

Mother hens pecking at a child

Yelling at it’s clumsiness

Mother hens shouting at their chicks

At faults perceived profane

You are loud!! Child yells.

You are vain and mundane to shout so as I create!


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    • profile image

      Tracey 2 years ago

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    • frankieonfire profile image

      frankieonfire 4 years ago from Eureka, CA

      Yes it sure can be from time to time. This was written during a time where I was quite secretive. I lost my best friend to a woman who was in my opinion the worst sort of person. Weak, controlling, petty, dramatic and outside the purity of unconditional love. He became her puppet. I am the second she in this poem, just a .... big a lot in love with him, she the other. I was one of the few who didn't fall for their social niceties, realizing the shallowness and lack of spine others have when they see and talk yet do not do. Basically it's me praying for him to find his way back and my prayers fall on the ears of those who will hear wisdom. Often times it's not the person we'd hoped would.

      It's painted in my heartache.

      Thanks for being such a captive audience. A pleasure.

    • Astra Nomik profile image

      Cathy Nerujen 4 years ago from Edge of Reality and Known Space

      Wow, the profane is a cryptic place... full of mystery and powerful images, it feels at times to be akin to Dante's Inferno or a nightmare in a painting. Even though I am struggling to find the meaning I am aware of its power... it's like the seed of creation itself struggling with its own birth... Breathtaking imagination as always, Frankie.