The Unsustainable Brouhaha

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Hysterical masses in a frenzy

eventually unnerve themselves in a fit of exhaustion.

What starts as a slightly audible hum,

gradually builds until it reaches a boisterous climax.

The orgasmic nature of a crowd

synchronizes itself to whatever is showing at the time.

No one comes late,

and no one wishes for an early withdrawal of forces.

A harbinger of fame and fortune lies in this ability

to continuously bring forth manic symptoms.

The fashionable fanfare for a King far excels that

of a pauper in proper attire.

An average plea would be ‘no contest’,

due to the certain lack of any competitive edge.

The edges being sought out of desperation

are not necessarily in the forefront.

Some folks run roughshod over the terrain,

longing to attain lovable attachments that hinder progress.

In a moment or two you will decide to please yourself,

and that will inevitably coincide with the moment

in which I start another ruckus.

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Sacred Taboos

When you break one, you become one.

“Don’t touch that!” Whatever it may be. “Don’t even think about it!”

What about the healing touch of a Saint?

Are not they allowed to touch The Untouchables?

“You’ll get germs!” By the way my mother yelled about it,

one was to assume there was pretty much germs on

everything – everywhere – all the time!

Even in the bathtub lay the hidden taboos. “Don’t play with that!”

To do so was considered dirty, and therefore,

I figured, it must clean itself.

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Inhibitions and restrictions vary from place to place.

What was so great about Rome?

Would you do as the Romans did, if you happened

to find yourself in a Grecian state of mind?

It sounds fairly dangerous to me, weighing the risks involved.

Then again…Mother owns the scales.