Hoarse is my poetic voice
rusted from brutality of negative realities in the light
screaming, pleading for it not to be so!
Thought is all now
headaches and hours with a pen
stronger than a gun
and certainly much more fun
Hoarse still is my poetic voice
though no longer vagrant
wandering though the chaos in loss
sifting through the poisoned sand with aggravation
letting it poison me
because
of fear
Valiant my cries grow
to mature in the purified snow
that enraptures the innocence still in me
Eden alive and longing to be free!
with patience and knowledge I'll live to see
every day, crying only tears of inspiration
no longer my soul to flee in crippling depravation!
Just a constant latter
angry fire that I can't put out, in my way
till I talk it down
with the subtle and natural winds of truth
with it's own voice- nature
fire natural like wind
like fires of human nature
winds to hush the noisy anger
noisy
Living my life in noise is worse that coating with a steel door and never climbing
Humanity! Pride striken minds blocking truth!
I speak the same for you
When to concude it
in the most powerful form of inner peace
silence
calms it
even for a moment in time
or one readers eye.
That is what I live
to give.
April 27th, 1999 -MS Savanna La Seringa
