always the pool,
poetry, essays, and movies
say the word ‘tranquil’,
and there’s a ubiquitous bloody pool,
involved,
and lurking deep,
below, the green and blue,
smoothness (‘like glass’ for goodness sake)
lies the crackeny-beast,
driving the evil new fascist submarine,
under,
the blackness of moonless night,
manufacturing surface pure reflection,
protection from,
the evil lying beneath,
which can ner’ be seen,
until,
until,
all hell breaks loose!
so the artist emphasizes,
by this comparison the tranquility,
that precedes the chaos,
must this always be?
think Lord of the Rings,
think red Bolshevik,
think of,
think of Lebanon,
surely still Lord there are places
hidden shadows of tranquility
where loved and beloved can
embrace silently a glimpse of
peace
future
hope
the man of love
Unmasking Ms. Tranquility is tricky,
I think she has been ignored and left out,
Our world might be uncomfortable with her silky presence and uses her more as a muse than a place and position of being – a beacon of reality in stillness, an antiquity, a throwback to a foolish world that hasn’t embraced progress.