As these words ascend from my mind,

this prosaic piece of paper transmutates

 into something strikingly stupefying.

Suddenly the cogitations of my spectators are saturated

 with the erudition that they have acquired.

its like my parlance is a magazine

and they want to subscribe and be inspired.

but if they want to be infused with my speech

they must plunge beneath the Cimmerian

 that is their subconscious’

and launch out the negativities

like incorrigible incendiaries

that are holding them hostage.

you see, my words rise away

from the spiritless and humdrum bounds  

of this sheet of paper

and into the most secret segments

of the hearts of my audience,

depurating their minds.

 It’s unfortunate

 that my subastral life is not interminable;

my supply of words is petering.

 before i get to the last line

i want to address the reason i write,

that you might perceive

the passion that enlivens my words,

though my letters aren't capitalized.

there is fervor and piety in every sentence

every noun, every verb.

at the heart of my speech lies

something silenced but when mortal minds plug into it

a sound emerges,

resurrecting the spirit of the fervor in poetry.