Poetry

Common sounds,
the commoner common of sound.
Does sound know itself?
Or shall I readdress my silence,

For the words in my head
are filled with passion
that is easily mistaken for violence.

Organising the situation,
to get out of the jail that surrounds
like jonah in the whale
I shall never be found

For the only comfort
is the redemption that has already past
So when the hour has struck at the moons quarter phase, waxing,
that is when you must fast

Like speed in time,
can I tell you a more indepth rhyme?

Riddled with secrets
that only you can read
inside you is the only tree left
 the most abundent god seed

Oh let them squawk with beaks that break
for they cannot kill you for meat
and still eat Cow steak.

Bless your beauty
radiant as the one
sun moon let them all swoon
over linguistic fallacies
in this false reality

For it was you that was the shepherd that lived with the sheep
so let them all weep!
Yes let them cry
at the hopless romantic idealism
that one day they might 'die'.