Look at the ones with beehives for mouths, ejecting out opinions to anyone caught in a net of overworked words, every opinion delivered with a lethargic varnish, each one a sting as a glob of soap in the eyes.
But we use our voice with our lips tightly shut. Let the art inside us buzz like a sneeze waiting for release, blast out in a fizz of ink and smudged fingertips. Hear the consonants trickle like a tap not quite turned off, the vowels rising and falling as waves.
Spill your thoughts if you must. Make a point. But donβt hurl them at us with a sour taste , sharp as an already grimy blade. Use them sparingly and well, let them linger before evaporating in a trail of steam, as if a ***** of sunlight before it slithers beneath the horizon.
Written: December 2016. Explanation: A poem written in my own time, partially inspired by the writings of Marina Keegan, an American student who sadly passed away several days after graduating from Yale in 2012. Feedback welcome. A link to my Facebook writing page can be found on my HP home page. NOTE: Many of my older pieces will be removed from HP at some point in the future.