allusion

Pen A Tin Cherry

Have you slipped a cog? 

Do your gears grind? 
Are you not right?
Are you not firing on all cylinders?
Has your Goat been Gotten?
  Was the Sacrificial Lamb of Imagination
on sale for 50 cents a pound that day?
  Was Clarity of Mind picked clean
by the time you reached the rummage
sale of Purpose?
  Has your Train of Thought de-railed
and went over the edge 
hitting every branch of Broken Reason 
on the way down,
only to sink to the Ocean Floor of
un-productivity?
  Did you then make every attempt 
to rebuild that train
with the rusty tools of Mediocrity, 
only to realize what you re-assembled was
the equivalent of stanzas of Mechanical Gibberish?
  Have you stubbed brain-toe
on the wooden leg of the chair of Profound Vision, 
only to visualize foot-in-mouth does not taste 
anywhere as bad as it sounds?
  Have you ever been diagnosed with 
Incontinence of the Mind, which is only any fun
if you've already been diagnosed with 
Diarrhea  of the Mouth? 
Have you been caught forging Checks
of Inspiration and found guilty 
in the Court of Flaw, and sentenced to 
serve time in the Penitentiary  of 
Useless Contemplation? 
Locked away
Bars barricading a 
bleak ramshackle brain.
Prisoner of mind.
Starving.Delerious.Naked.
  and then you hear the sound of a shofar 
A grand vision.
The city limits,
on the cellular level; 
an anthill.
Abandoning the colony 
for a crumb.
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Lucifer's Cry

Grace be at ease
for we've fall'n so far
chained in adamantine
till our bondage we release
now we lay bloody, thunder marred
our luster gone, we fall'n tribe without our shine.

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