The
poet uses their voice to speak
the deepest thoughts or the thoughts never spoken by the many
too personal, too hurtful, too unaccepted, too
fanciful-
in tones of melodic harmony
or disjointed raucous cacophony
The poet uses their eyes to see
the details never seen or the visions no one dares to open their eyes to
too bright, too dark, too complex, too minute
for the emotionless eye ocular confusion,
with visions painted the way a few want us to see it
mental pictures designed to be the most pleasing.
The poet uses their ears to hear
the languages unspoken, just sounds, some whispers,
or other noises heard all around the world
too soft, too indistinguishable, too foreign, too loud
A constant dull humming interrupted only with infrequent truths told.
The poet uses their nose, to smell
the fragrant
smells, scents adding twists to preferences
too pungent, too sweet, too putrid, too fleeting
for
descriptions fanciful or exaggerated
using smells bound by what we''ve experienced before
having imagination to describe the new descriptions
The poet uses their hand to write
words limited by learning, an endless quest
too blatant, too harsh, too calloused, too abrupt
writing ideas after feeling the weight of the world in minutes
instances trying to inspire when all fools are mislead
provoking a rejuvenation of cells we already posses,
genetically united, and the poet has accomplished what they initially seek-
through their words, an effort
to find the perfect unison
when all senses become one.
The poet
lives in all of us, enriching lives, each other,
by sharing the words that touch a chord, giving us reasons toWAKE UP.
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