Purified

 

Distilled dogmas dutifully drained from doctrinal decanters,

poured as the pristine panacea potion as a sanguine solution,

its clarity in cure clearly crafted in black and white reality,

as it is cleverly served to sequester in scent of impotency.

 

In the brain is injected the possible placebo persuasions

so perfectly and poignant poised to prepare

the paragon in potency that produces such primed plumes

that flow in seductive and suggestive streams

deep into those parched places of presumption.

 

How that nectar nullifies the natural need

to seek savory and succulent sauces,

which are made of discernment’s herbs,

they bring vitality through sip’s of liberty

until the mind can mix grays in uncertainty’s grapes

into the vat that froths with formulaic fermentations

where one is able to decipher true wine from vinegar.

 

What crystalline chalice the heart conceives

for the vintage of utopian inebriation,

only it is a drink often soured

since it is made in a still of postulated ingredients

instead of those proven to provide

a real genuine elixir for what ails each life.

 

No matter how eloquent the glass appears,

regardless if its contents are claimed

as the ideal effervescent in medicinal magic

able to separate nights suffering from day’s vitality,

outside the imagination where any kool-aid causes immorality

within the world we know no toast to transformation

ends the tainted toxins that mar our milk.