The grapevine
Filled with the mysteries of wine 
Idle chatter 
Over things that don’t really matter 

He said, she said, this or that 
The cocktail bar is suddenly filled with rats 
Information greets 
The lambs that bleat 

The sheep congregate 
Stirring up hate 
Sharing secrets that should not be told 
So much wine, they feel bold 

Small minds drinking wine 
Wasting their time 
Dwelling on small things 
Like the scorpion that stings 

Living rooms and bars 
We fill our glass jars 
With ideal chatter 
Over things that don’t really matter 

It keeps our universe small 
Like a baby that never learns to crawl 
It’s like standing still 
Never receiving our divine will 

A fear to be seen 
A fear to stand as a queen 
To be heard 
To be the cat who purrs 

The word is bigger than this 
There can be so much bliss 
So much magic to be found 
When we dive into what’s driving us underground 

Can we face it head on 
Share our stories of what went wrong ?
Can we become our own mystery 
Or will we remain small, subduing ourselves with the spirit of whisky 


Written by Zoe Langman 06.08.2023