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and three am again, but we’re here
talking about poetry, language, love, passion
as if we were one and the same, not
seperated by the distance of minds shackled
to our dictatorial pens and papers
who scream in esctacy; wetting themselves in
spasmatic glee in antcipation for us
to take that one, deep plunge
and let the words flow out from
within us
planting themselves
in dirt and soul and grass
and growing like a tree
of adjectives jutting out
from branches of misplaced
sentences and leaves
of puncuation.
its roots hold the grammar
together, tightly knoting
around its thighs
and we shout

” timber! ”

(and it echoes)

as we axe that
tree to start over anew
for we are the ones who extinguish life
from this forest
with brutal tongues
and quickly scribed words
before trashing them
in search for
a better discriptive
language. one where i could say
“i love you” with out the words
mishapen, appearing contrived
and useless as
my every poem before,
or “my madness becomes me”
before i fear that
it is all so true.

” timber! ”

(and the echoes wane)

and we strip the bark for its better parts
to find the words to print onto landscapes
and mountain summits
to shout beside the face of god
be cause we
laugh at the sides of other poets
who think they
own their pens and their hearts
and their minds
when it is they who
become slaves to the words
shackled by an
evergrowing need
to flourish and bloom
so that when the time comes
they may sign their names
into the oaks
and redwoods of history.

” timber ”

– r.o.a

Listening to: Forfeit – Something Against Me [album: the lower depths]

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One Comment

  1. cool poem.
    i like that you break the verses up this way


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