Etchings of a Vagabond

The provincial womb births a roaring romantic soul 
erroneously delivered into vanilla-scented, bourgeoisie arms
with a nascent burning to taste only the fusion milk of Parisian Bohemia

and as the lava erupts so does the radical yearling of a breeding volcano
flowing to pursue an existential revolt, knocking out a conundrum
of Absinthe-fuelled, knife-wielding, sodomizing debauchery at a feverish pace

the gritty, archetypal rebel who frames his house only
with a passionate appetite, starving for more, alights a foundation in sand
ignoring sensibility choosing fissure-creeping, creativity-inducing paradoxes

and in witnessing, we wonder, is this the essence of a life
or an unearthing of a grave in the shovelling of defiant outcroppings
to create Dead Rat sketches onto sterile wastelands devoid of spirited dreams

and in truth, indeed, a passion flower does bend and wilt
in pure rationalism thirsty for the sensual beyond the sour-dripping vapidity
the wayward inspired to source vibrant rhythms inherent in the salt of choppy seas

a force of nature this effusive warming mountain spring
surfacing through multiple layers of soil and sand against
the granite societal masks—a wretched meandering of rebellious fornication

this planting the seeds does too sow a bitter-tasting 
season-in-hell crop illuminating the growth of bogging characters
sleeping rough through personal enlightenments with wild renunciations

finally those peregrinations settle, again, in the sands
of a chosen Ethiopian utopia an ironic choice in the French coffee 
bohemianism of the Somalian desert, a hypocrisy-filled juxtaposition

and such unconventional vagabond etchings cross oceans of time and space
transforming into later Morrison experimentation, Dylan-like visualizations
those rock music celebrations and crossing paths with American transcendentalism

paradoxical is the art pursued through historical assimilation
inspiring parallel acts of Rimbaud-styled rebellion, a prophetic narrative
of rocky roads, echoing words of Rodriguez—such is the poetry of the establishment blues.

~ namasté, Leah 🕊

🕊 embracing mindful, empowering transformations🕊

© Leah J. Spence 2019, All Rights Reserved

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