Why can't I speak
words of gold, provoking thought
words that settle in the mind
words that are right.
I choke on perfect words
they twist and distort
until no longer beautiful
mundane. simple. plain.
My tongue stops the poetry of thought
silver, liquid and lyrical
turns choppy, harsh
the ears wince.
I want a tongue of silver
but all I have is lead.
Or the words tumble out
like a river overflowing its banks
uncontrolled, messy, meaningless
I want people to listen
to be burned
I want to create a fire
of speech and writing
consuming all who encounter it
but all I have created are dying embers and ash
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 12:30 AM UTC
Why can't I speak
words of gold, provoking thought
words that settle in the mind
words that are right.
I choke on perfect words
they twist and distort
until no longer beautiful
mundane. simple. plain.
My tongue stops the poetry of thought
silver, liquid and lyrical
turns choppy, harsh
the ears wince.
I want a tongue of silver
but all I have is lead.
Or the words tumble out
like a river overflowing its banks
uncontrolled, messy, meaningless
I want people to listen
to be burned
I want to create a fire
of speech and writing
consuming all who encounter it
but all I have created are dying embers and ash