The Essence of Pearls (wisdoms and truths from a young girl, a mother and an old man)


I have something to declare!

I want to scream through customs

Rage, let fly

And sail

Against the wind

And rail

Against red tape

Smash glassed ceilings

Topple ivoried towers

And crash through invisible doors

To reveal my conceits

Like a grubby smuggler

A literary itinerant

Returning from the Orient

With opiates for the massed ranks

Of Philistines



                                                                                                                                    And Fools

Addicted to.                                                                                                               

                                                                                                                                         And by.

The crowning glory that lies

                                                                                         Au/gmented in their goldliness



I have no use for cleanliness

                                                                                                                                           I need

To desanitize and infect

Desensitize and distract

Defenestrate your catholic books of rules

Cathartically submersive

Chaotically subversive

As I slaughter your sacred cows

And all who follow

Like mutton

Disrupt and deconsecrate the doctrines of divine society

Genuflect before my mighty truths!

Revel, rejoice and reflect in my lustrous prose!

                                                                                                                                 Revere me!

I will divide and undermine the ranks

And file unity within the masses

Expose the nakedness of Kings

Dispossess and disrobe them of their purpled lineage

Unwinding and hoisted by their own kushtis

Cast among Prince and swine alike

To stand upon the tallest mountain

                                                                                                           Do I have the cojones?

                                                                                          Would you clutch your pearls?

                                                                          As I announce myself unto your world.



Or maybe I should just murmur into a seashell

Her echoes rebounding eternally



Littoral discovery

And the wondering

Of a young girl upon a beach

                                                                                            In hushed and reverent tones

She will tell her mother:

“There’s a voice inside this shell.

                                                                                                                She’s singing to me.

                                                                                                                   In echoes of hope.

And love.

                                                                                                                 Happiness and joy.

                                                                                                              Of fear and freedom.

                                                                                                        Sadness and revelation.

Of truth.

                                                                                                                           And untruths.

                                                                                        Deceptions, legends and myths.

                                                                                                 Of every word ever uttered.

                                                                                                                        Or held forever.


                                                                                                                     In every tongue.”



A new mother’s first soothing words.

                                                                  ‘Hush now’.

Breathed so reverently with primal love.                                                    And awe.

Simply spoken devotions.


                                                                Imperceptible to all but her new-born babe.

                                                                                                     Swaddled and held close.

                                                                                                Her daughter’s first return.

                                                                             Gurgling, smiling, gurning, babbling.



And the final testaments of the dying

The sadnesses of old men, with their pyrrhic histories

Buried so deep they have long been.                                


Claimed so far back as vainglorious victories

And only now understood in all their hubris.


Yet brilliant and dazzling in their revelations.

False idols worshipped.                                                                                    And slain.

And prophesies unwrit.

The finger’s twitch outlives the last breath.                                                  Of man.

Detached from pain.

                                                                                                                            Devoid of wit.



The final truth

Writ bold and painted black

Straight shoulders

Straight back

Chest out

Yielding to the fate of all fates

Unburdened and unbridled now

No longer straining

Or bent

To inclines or the treacherous slopes

Of italics or speeches

Marked with ambiguity or sleight of tongue

Feinted praise

Or cleverly twisting turn of phrase

Heaven bound, and heaven sent

Not from this earth asunder rent

Freefalling, majestically

Rising effortlessly


One final speech

Seeking immortality

And absolution


Before the gates

That lead Him home




At last to blessed Elysian Fields


Unguarded, next the shield

The sword returned to stone



The last to rest, is laid the pen




And sticks nor words

Will e’er return

To hurt again.

                                                                                                There can only be one King.



“I want to keep her, but I know she belongs right here.

For others to encounter,

interpret, discard                                                                                             and share.”



She says.                                                       “I

Have something to                                         declare!

There’s a voice inside this shell.

If you hear it.                                                                                And I hope you might.

Pause a while.

And listen.

And feel the hope.

                                                                                                                          Reject despair.

I think people pay more attention.

                                                                                                                     when you whisper.”

What are you looking for?