Tongues In Abstract

 Tongues are a special anatomical invention

venting and will-work-wagging with varying convention.

Cute, creep-crawl creatures slurp slick-soft slugs and shoot

sticky, slop-mass-mounds of evolved flesh: pounce, reboot,

repeat, then lick. Look, the sublingual solitude

of a berry sized seed buried and

booed

for being so bothersome to the lingual

advantages 

of being rational and speaking several languages;

bilingual; slow, but with strong accents and sloppy bursts 

of, oh yes, ‘yeast-yawn’ palatals, well rehearsed

but, well, with sub-par pronunciation. The tongue’s 

highest use, I think then, is as throne: the Son’s

 

place of respite leaving one tongue-tied with Majesty.

No wonder it’s so wonderful but wandering south can be a travesty,

just west of wicked minded inclination,

puffed and gassy, it is “Glossitis,” the glossy, grassy nation

where sometimes tongues don’t work so well and messy faces 

and fingers result and things are said that spoil spaces.

A beloved creature, the tongue is drawing immense 

pleasure in the eyes and heart of Coherence,

a beaming and affectionate Countenance, 

the fruit of his satisfaction and love for tongue parlance,

of which his Son took one when he became Man, 

learning to lip with lap, love and chat with twelve chosen kinsmen.

Gary Edward Geraci