Psittacidae

funk

spunk

clunk

chug

hug

words and their secret power

play peek-a-boo with my sentiments

they flutter and mutter among themselves the secret truths of the all

then capriciously

they migrate my way

by the time they reach my brain's ear

the secrets have burrowed themselves again

into cultural and personal mud

they remain hidden from me

but not from the parrots

no no no

they know

they bask in the know

they fly powered by the power of know

their colors come from knowing

.

so i set on an adventure

the sole goal

enamor a parrot

with wit and charm

then coax it into releasing the secrets

un-muddied and fresh

into my hungry ears

.

the parrot, i found

the enamoring was done

the coaxing peeled away the information as intended

by the time it landed in my sound receptacles

the implications of such knowledge

had plowed their way into my knowing eye

i was able to see

behind all the mason bricks of reality

with a clarity so incandescent that it almost blinded me

but alas the malign implications...

they impeded my relating of what i saw

in fact they replaced the lucidly brilliant images of the truth's truth

with an image

this image is the only thing i am allowed to share

i was assured that this image carries all the knowledge i was privy to

and that all that set eyes upon it

would at some level

feel, understand, and assimilate

the perennial knowl-edge

the image

sits atop this account.