Them Words Poem by dan hightower

small tablets dribble down my solitude and form pools of discontent for the reptiles of revolution to wade and swim and dine on divine rights of passage as they wriggle and wiggle their slinky forms through the murky morass of my selves, the tranquility of inequity borrows stolen moments from my recycling bin of thoughts, dainty and pressed stories riding the wrinkled grey matter to get to the fragmented core, boring a stolid actuality while spirals of concentration spin webs of conceited smiles, savored morsels mirrored and frozen, bracing the foundation of lies holding the glass house of stones i built steady and fortified against any intruding force such as sorrow or love, the borrowing of faculties in order to promote a languid existence, a painstakingly sordid emancipation from self, a replication of antiquity to be held and coddled for the opportunities inherent, the intrinsic regality of self sustenance and a forbearance of mind rendering a symphony of warmth, a pride of lion-esque pride, a pressing of steps in order to never be stagnant, a positioning of footprints so as to distort the truth of the path, to contort the efforts of the layman in his attempt to find the destination through my efforts of reformation, a calisthenics of the soul, stretching the boundaries to hold the vast nostrums to the frantic pace of it all, the panic and stressing of chemically induced physical entities, all the sentient beings striving for peace and life within that solace, to provide and prevent the infiltration of wrath and his six brother’s, to live outside the realm of concentric circles, to pass the manifold of compactification and deliberately steady the hands of gods, ten dimensions we are told, perhaps eleven, we see three plus tyme yet we can’t explain why an electron jumps from one orb to the next when their energy is released, nor can we examine the nature of nature in it’s basic form, the elementary particles of life escape our means of extracting their properties, electrodynamics tells of an existing balance in our physical world, when a negatively charged particle in Africa dissipates, another in Poland emerges and the question is whether the one emerging is the one which vanished or is it a newly created one, for if it is the one which vanished then we have tyme travel in a sense, we have the unthinkable, where did it go in the picosecond which it was nothing, ah the irony in man’s vanity to fly as high as our limits will allow when we know even less of the make-up of our home, seeing this huge picture and being astonished by the possibilities of it with an inherent failure to be sufficiently confounded by the very nature of the picture, what is the fabric of the cosmos if not the very fabric of us, why can’t a superstring theory be true, that what happens in the other dimensions effects the happenings in this one, and that those tiny dimensions are folded on top of each other so that we can’t break in to their world, or perhaps we are in one of those dimensions ourselves with another race contemplating the possibility of us and close to figuring out how to break in to this sphere, the event horizon is the edge of a black hole, where gravity and all matter are sucked in and can’t exist due to the vacuum created within the hole, and no one knows the possibilities of that vortex due to the inability of man to go in and come out, so what if when you do go you get a glimpse of the other side, the other dimensions, perhaps there are millions of dimensions we simply can’t fathom because our minds haven’t evolved enough to, haven’t the capacity to imagine such things, what worlds exist while we selfishly and coincidentally ignorantly assume not only that we are the only beings capable of cognition, but moreso that we are the highest level of that ability, we are simple creatures by many standards and simply fools to presume we are the high end of the food chain, or the knowledge chain, or the chain of existence when in reality we may be the fleas of the universe…