Neither Here Nor There Poem by John Sensele

The darkness of frankness inflames the mane
My lion detests in the savannah where pukus
Run for their lives once they smell the bane
Transmitting slivers of shiver to conspiracy coups

Brewing in the dark as nocturnal nomads
Launch their sorties to hunt down gazelles
That gallumph at high celerity mocking pads
Trouncing every bounce and ounce in veils

Concealed in the pain and drain faces
Of the daughter of laughter left in tatters
When sentiments assaulted surfaces
Where cells, quells and their gutters

Cried foul
Upon gazing at scrolls
Unfurling one line at a time to scowl
Sweeping sweat from rustic roles

Frowns figure out
Once anger arrives at my doorstep
Where feelings and dealings tout
The paradigm shift for hustled help

That runs, runs, and runs
Looking for a hole on the ground
In which to hide the baked buns
No one wants except in the mystery mound

Where wisdom in its kingdom
Crawls, crawls and crawls
Shouting for the return of the freedom
That seeks refuge in humble halls

Keeping a low profile
Pulling its threads together
Enjoining them to march in a single file
While giving me neither grief nor bother

As I nod my head
To acknowledge twists and turns
That steal dreams from my bed
Reminding me longevity doesn't lie in urns

In which I thought I saw the treasure
Shining and gleaming at night
Promising me leisure beyond measure
If only I could pray for salvation every midnight.