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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A poem about the veiling ways of being in spirits

Submitted: January 21, 2014

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Submitted: January 21, 2014



Dionysus awaited me

I was in the highest soul and spirits.

Freshness floating into

the alabaster jar she gave me

and she kept


and pouring,

but I hold


and wild turkeys follow me

wherever I may roam.

They indeed have, since I was

old enough to stumble,

since I hunted down the goose.

Wherever I may roam!


To the tabernacle, and the joint,

truant as I can be, yet to the adopted home

of mine, wherever I may roam.

They hunt me down, they’re willing to kill

yet still, shielded by Dionysus I

follow, uncontested, as I


down to his will!


Oh! Walker! Walk on, absolute,

will take it to the sky, where Dionysus awaits me

and Bacchus—because I do see

them both and hear their noise.

Never yield I will,

or can.

But I know my spirit, and it will carry me


I am, in fact, bullet proof,

can take some shots;




like the gods that veil their spirits over me

to make me yet

whom I became,

a King, and a monster, which I am not;

for merely

I am!

© Copyright 2019 Dan Wilder. All rights reserved.

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