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the mandala with the nipple at the centre

Grogged, split into holographic shards:
Hypnogog reveleations reflect
One dreary dreamer. Divinity
staggers to recall Itself
in matter.

Is God like peppermint? I think him

more like meade caressing 
a breeze – just beyond 
the fresh whore.

Bands of succulence
orbit a soaked mind.

The mandala, stony gravel out-stations
brilliantly placed in the Logic, 
oddly so.

In the centre the most divine Creation.

The nipple more proud than unassuming
more mirage-producing
than drought.

And all around the nipple children skip
chasing fairies in the smoky glow.

All around the nipple dance children, go.
More ancient than childbirth. The cheek

of Isis swirls itself into a Promise. Food
was later, grown men (and women) don’t know.

The milk erodes its own palace. The screen
remains; like the silence in a scream.

Art only, ever in the making. The sacredness
of a breast more than Nature produces.

Some on the outer, independent scriptute.
Some more honest, after some lost inner elixir.

I say: the world would not last long without a breast.

Copyright. 2009. JLM.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2009




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Date: 3/1/2010 1:19:00 PM
I always enjoy reading,,what goes beyond your words,,the thoughts and the message in your writes..excellent Jim..Charma
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Date: 12/14/2009 2:49:00 PM
As I am sitting here reading your wonderful poetry today, I would like to thank you Jim. First I would like to thank you for writing and sharing your poetry (whether one poem or a thousand) here at PoetrySoup.Second I would like to thank you for all your kind comments to me and to all the other excellent poets also. I wish you all the best in life and in your writing endeavors in 2010. Love and blessings to all, Carol
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Date: 12/14/2009 8:45:00 AM
An interesting write. "The milk erodes its own palace." this line seems to capture the topic on so many different levels. Well crafted.
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