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.
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.