Unsettling silence protrudes me whole,
Silence with god,
Silence within my soul,
Silence of remarkable control,
Silence bound to eat me whole,
Skillful silence has me sinful,
Plundering what in me was willful,
What to make of who I am?,
What to make of my greed?,
To have god's heed.

Listen to me now and heed my voice;
I am a madman, alone, screaming in the wilderness,
but listen now.

Listen to me now, and if I say
that black is black, and white is white, and in between lies gray,
I have no choice.

Does a madman choose his words? They come to him,
the moon’s illuminations, intimations of the wind,
and he must speak.

But listen to me now, and if you hear
the tolling of the judgment bell, and if its tone is clear,
then do not tarry,

but listen, or cut off your ears, for I Am weary.

*

Published by Penny Dreadful, The HyperTexts, the Anthologise Committee and Nonsuch High School for Girls (Surrey, England)

Also published by Michael R. Burch writing as Immanuel A. Michael and Kim Cherub

Keywords/Tags: Listen, heed, prophet, crying, wilderness, voice, prophecy, black, white, gray, moon, wind, speak, speaking, speech, instruction, teaching, warning, omen, illuminations, intimations, ears, hear, judgment, bell, toll, tolling, peal, pealing, tone, I, Am

Note: The poet as a “madman, alone, screaming in the wilderness” is likened to John the Baptist, foretelling a momentous “second coming”: his own, with no other Messiah in sight.

What shall be of me and you on the judgment day
A day when this greener land of ours will turn to gray
The rich; the wealthy will know how poor they are
The kings and gods will realize how small they are
The popular; famous will become unknown
Some will cry and the comedian will be unable to make his joke
On that day, everyone will know how special he is
Man will regret and blame himself for the way he live
Scientist; philosopher, scholar and professor will know how ignorant they are
Terrorists, hooligans, gangsters and drug dealers will know the reality
They will realize that life is nothing but vanity
Their missiles and guns and bombs will be unable to help them
The escort, bodyguards, bouncers will be unable to protect themselves
Their weight will loose; their muscles will cuddle and turn flat
And after that
Man’s temperature will read indirectly
His stimuli will dis-stimulate negatively
He will shiver under 12pm sun
Father will see but not recognize his son
The moon will burn and the sun will freeze him
His leg will be unable to hold him
*
A man who live his life and forget his origin
He malign and mistreat the filthy
And he believe he will repent when he reaches fifty
He’s gonna pray and seek for forgiveness at older age
But death took him away at earlier stage
He womanise and he cheated; he wine and dine
So, his grave will welcome him as the most despise
A believer on the other hand whom his heart is purest
His grave will welcome him as the most beloveth
He would be exempt from any form of suffering
And he will pass without exam on the day of judgement

Syllables collect like vacant shells
           on a shore of nonconformity.

Willing the thoughts now washing up
             to be converged vividly.


     We gaze at many horizons,
collecting upon us, are we to be
                               washed away...

Or will our reflections be that
       which we swim within,
               be that which we heed in word..

take heed in your place throughout life. we are snowflakes in an avalanche. and perhaps we should care, if a star disappears. what if that star was our last.

A tricky
pet irony
of her
most influential
'twas there
Saybrook that
ruined her
of Russian
intel who
trod with
"a Jack
Russell" and
met with
final entourage  
in skull
and crossbones  
just yesterday.

Waiting to hear from you
Handling me delicately
With your words from heart
Filled with love for me
Responding with a hello
Is better than a silence
Showing a bundle of hatred
And when I get a call
I hear you talking with
No heed to converse
Getting irritated with
The sweet voice which
You loved much before
Controlling my tears
Not to fall for the one
Who doesn't care
To love me anymore