Stacks and stacks
of wooden plaques:
Prayers on front,
Art on the back.
Each a wish
and a dream?
More an expression,
or so it seems.
Whatever prayer
may be writ,
There’s always
something
more to it.
A need to show
one’s unique soul:
To tell the world
that one is whole.
A life reduced
to a shingle:
Multitudes,
to a single.
Stand on a hill and howl.
Don't wait for the perfect moon.
Gather your thoughts,
& wash the:
cliches,
doublespeak,
technocratic jargon, and
weasel words
out of mind & mouth.
(Those shitty words, phrases,
and qualifiers are heavy,
and will weigh down
your message &
keep it from sailing.)
Then, belt it out.
Let your words fly.
Express your authentic self.
Huff & Puff,
and let the bricks fall
where they may.
I saw the lips move, but no sound came out. The message could not cross from air to brain. With reddened face, next an attempted shout, but silence suggests words weren't true but feigned. You'll think me deaf, but I heard other sounds: a ticking clock, a fan, and distant horns. Maybe, barrier glass made unseen bounds? Perhaps, but what bars only sound that mourns? I know of nothing that would fit the bill, but start to suspect nothing stopped the scream from reaching me, but rather force of will did stick that voiceless face within my dream. But am I sure I'm having a nightmare? I can't say for sure that I'm even here.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 