All those clever, broken
Silent moments.
All closed, never spoken
Violent notions.
And every intended emotion
Whispered away in the wind, unnoticed
Strangling the song of the awry voice, floating
Farther and farther from center,
Exploding
Shaky, uneven nerves
Of the universe
Profane and perverse,
Caught up in its throat and
Choking on oceans of words
Which refuse to be heard.
Converging every breath of every kind
With every pulse in every mind,
Connected at the twisted spine
Of the guilty conscience--
Both yours and mine.
What are we, but bleeders and readers,
Feasting on the meat
Beating around the leaner.
Licking pretty pages open,
Hoping for a story
Flipping chapters too fast, in a fervent fury.
Skimming and fingering quickly for the moral,
Digesting half a painting
To regurgitate a mural.
Slowly, fiends,
Scrutinize what each word means.
These lines don't give themselves away,
You've got to touch what's in between.
Read, soft and thorough,
'Cause these verbs are fertile.
Each and every singular
You and I can make plural.
First thing's first-- Silence
Is the worst thing you're cursing,
While I'm thirsting for vocabulary
Bursting from each capillary.
Let's explore your diction,
Write a non-fiction.
The finest of fantasies
Is that which we're living.
Something novel and provocative,
The levee has got a lot of give.
Dammed by laboring, labrythine limbs
The monster subconscious wants us
But doesn't need us
Watch it feed us
To the hungry Earth.
The sign on the soul says,
"do not disturb."