Behold my stentorian roar
Peroration
In vehement, bellicose
Vituperation
Verbose in its prose
Overdose inclination
Towards mostly morose
Evokes ghosts
Intimation
Past revenants, resonant
In my unhesitant
Unbridled
Diatribe lines’
Leftist sentiment
Only sometimes
Over-confident, arrogant
When my existence itself
Is aberrant
To reverent
Irritants kneeling in
Deference
To an insouciant idol’s
Insistence
They pay its lip service’s
Idle indifference
But mine is a kind
Of unspoken rules broken
A voluble diffidence
Inner-peace woken
To worlds at war waging
Enslavement wage
Graving
New power mad-craving
Stark raving mad tyrants
But pirates still plundering
Rites
Remain silent
The voices
Whose choices
Are foisted
Then hoisted
In banner years’
Foreign fears
As the truth
Disappears
And then from chaos
Disorder erupts
Gushing forth repercussions
Of paint brushes hushed
For too long
The swan song
Has been throngs
Of hope crushed
Til there must
Come the ******
Of the poet’s sword
Vocal cords
Raised
Like the fist
Of the podium-pounding
Upstage
Of the passive-resistance
To change’s
Parade