As I return to the terrain Of home and family and poetry… I call still on power to cease, To end its grip On the throat of humanity… I spit it out as if poison, Wrenching the taste away… Like a lopped off limb Striking a dreary sound I slice it deeply toward tyranny… I release it like a victim of rape, Shaking, fatigued, frantic, enraged Cutting the air of privilege… I expel it like a thief Moving stealthily, no outline, Save for the throb of unknown loss… I throw it to the page with imagination, A sword cutting its way through… And without prejudice I spatter.
As I return to the terrain
Of home and family and poetry…
I call still on power to cease,
To end its grip
On the throat of humanity…
I spit it out as if poison,
Wrenching the taste away…
Like a lopped off limb
Striking a dreary sound
I slice it deeply toward tyranny…
I release it like a victim of rape,
Shaking, fatigued, frantic, enraged
Cutting the air of privilege…
I expel it like a thief
Moving stealthily, no outline,
Save for the throb of unknown loss…
I throw it to the page with imagination,
A sword cutting its way through…
And without prejudice
I spatter.
Copyright © 2006 mrp / thepoetryman