Tumulty's Pub           4-1-90

This seasoned madame,
My concierge
Flicks her lighter
To illuminate a mystical path//
Seldom trod
The path of authentic modes and
Moods
Along the corridors leading to
Low intensity emotions
Betraying the real you...

She leads me by the hand
Past the still waters of another's
Drink/
Languid,
Being examined simultaneously
By drinker-thinkers
Master proprietors
And others of honorable
Emotional mind
All speculating
On what futures will be created
By the next ripple on its surface.

"Are they powerful enough
To think this through,
To cause it to be,"
I ask Madame,
My concierge.

And she assures me that these men
Are philosophers of a sort,
And of this she is sure,
For she is philosophical in her
Own rite, and more than qualified to
Judge.

Philosophers of the golden rail
Philosophers of the oaken bar/
Philosophers seeking:

JUST ONE TRUTH AMONG MANY POSSIBLE
SUCH THAT ALL MAY BE SAVED

What truth in the humble confines
Of a tumbler
Stared at by men of determination and
Highest Principles!

I stare into the languishing stasis
Of the tumble encased pool/
And snap my attention up
To the ceiling
In nausea and
Revolt

"Let there be an event!"
I cry.

"This lack of movement 
is causing me anguish, 
Fear and pain!"

And she, Madame,
My concierge,
Gently strokes my arm and
Croons a soft syllogistic melody/
To appeal to the conscious person
That I am:

"Let them be,"
Says she,
"Life is a great web that must
Work smoothly, and these
Immobilized men are a part...
Of this web...
On this planet…
In this part of the Cosmos -

Let them stare into the glass/
It is their fate to see as
Much as possible
Until the ripple occurs
To cause a chaos
To ignite Armageddon."

And she, Madame,
My concierge,
Smiled at me
Boldly and richly...

1)	THOUGHTS FROZEN INTO PLACE.

2)	ULTIMATE LIMITS.

3)	PRISONS WITHIN LIFE

4)	SHE DEMON:

       GRENDEL