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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2092758
Rated: ASR · Poetry · Experience · #2092758
Drinking tea to calm the nerves--it's fundamental.

Brewed tranquility, English tradition,
tea ease as per Earl Gray…
provides me in this quiet place
the calm I need because of my
cousin’s self-righteous arrogance,
her bigotry and pious judgments,
her hate…and so I sip hot liquid
to rid the bad taste in my mouth,
to iron knotted nerves made so
by a peculiar immoral bent
so ascribed to by certain Jesus
credit card holders, wherein
Hell is threat extant, and
bigotry spews forth
and even murder
is condoned…they should
be shot
, she said of Gays.
Ah tea, remove me from
the precipice so narrow,
as I might fall into a bottomless
chasm churning molten like
anger, red and sulphur stained.
I let the evanescent vapor waft
into my nares, into my sinus
and my brain so as to lessen
places desert-like, dry as
brittle bones brought on
by bronze age evil thuggery.
Praise be to Earl Gray, I say,
praise be to the very mug I hold,
for it contains a warmth that soothes
and not the heat of temperament
so wounded that it has to crawl.
I raise the mug containing tea
and as I do I let my little finger
loose, to be as free as it may be.
Saint Peter may have tea, perhaps,
at Pearly Gates locale, and when she
comes perhaps he’ll raise
a finger, too.

40 Lines
Writer’s Cramp Winner
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2092758