Climate of Opinion

Source. Pexels. Caner Cankisi, Photographer

by  LJ Frank

 

 Pundits chatter from the tableau of painted promises

land and satellite media monetized on the Street

coastal to coastal highways paranormal parlays gamesmanship

a slim cowboy stands at a bar in a chiaroscuro last picture show

and a misshaped ball of tumbleweed blows across a country road

a shower of sunlight passes over polished marble

briefly lighting up the luminaries inscribed

how does one live in comfort without currency

vanity vexes the spirit; a voice admonishes from the pulpit

the indigene smiles at the au naturel Buddha of Man

the spoil(s) of victory are never sufficient

for perception can be a simile to stepping in quicksand

while preemption speaks to the enraptured mind

a pallbearer shares a thoughtful truth to the aggrieved –

whatever comforts you

a personage touches the arm of a penitent to keep the faith

while revealing that condolences are a complicated allegory

the revelation not of paved gold streets may take hold of the soul

as the face of a past and now becomes achingly poised

and one may find they are starring at a familiar longing  

amid the irony an uninvited reaches in his tuxedo coat

retrieves a weapon in the disguise of peace and care

and aims it at a metaphor situated next to an altar 

murdering the symbol that was already dead

he sighs with an amalgam of angst and wonder 

the Prophets of Rebirth are waiting in the wings

the Medicine of the Spirit is an imperfect science at best

stimulation and artificial worth aid in reconstructing reality

while reincarnation may be the best of meta-options

wanting to be made into a film for the price of a Presence

and so, it is etched in the hieroglyphics of an ancient tribe

supervised intellectual masturbation is sacred

for the conceptual seeds of awareness are implanted

on the tilled nutrient rich and textured soil of intent

while the seeker seeks an answer to the unanswerable

and a simple word may appear to be an evocation of a thought

the climate of opinion steadfast in a redistribution of the Actual

brought to life in a Medieval orchestral piece, Conductor waits 

only to learn the lead cellist-composer is missing with his music

of which the title was but one word and that being – Redemption.