~for the teachers who teach love of language,
with soul and their bodies entire~
~~~
the love of words, language, these playful spirited characters,
from atoms of aleph bets, making molecules from combinatorics,
and words, nattering, woven alliterations, granting the mind
a freedom of expression in the how and why it be bespoke…
oh the sounds they make though irony slams for we write ours
in a soundproof cocoon oft enough, but sounds, of everything,
street car honking, a child begging for more, reside recorded in the head
where soundproofing is possible, except if drugging the senses,
why would anyone desire that?
but words are human products,
sometimes poems within a single
container, that trigger - yes that triggering sensation needed,
so widely abused, an inexcusable abuse to silence the freedoms words inspire…
but sight, the sightings, that require no eyes, but skilled skin of
insight inside, anyone can see, but few can vision, penetrate
the pores of life, peer into the cells that willfully disguise the inner
meanings, and elicit the brief of what’s underneath, the hearty meat
of the matter that matters,
the inside straight…
Ain’t (shudder) that the truth teach?
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Sun aft. Dec 14
nysee