B. Sven Telander

# 19 - Poem by B. Sven Telander

At the psychedelic potluck what the thieves bring
is an idiot oldster who can hear mutes converse
and relay tender vision of a butterfly’s sting,
while cocooned in robes both saintly and perverse;
given a dividend borne on war’s peace,
a synergy most willing both dense and diffused:
no jailers, no martyrs caged for earned release
from doctrinal venom and dogmas poison confused
in well tended gardens- old inked pages grow mold;
again words of men play agent of suppression,
via ancient habits of digging through dung for gold,
building the barriers preventing divine intercession
as paws of victory scratch wings of defeat,
feathers of virtue meet claws of deceit.

Topic(s) of this poem: comedy, faith, insanity, mythology

Form: Sonnet

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Poem Submitted: Monday, August 31, 2015

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