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Poetry
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| Free Speech | |
| By hutmaster | ||||||
| 25 July 2007 | ||||||
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Checked consonants spurt and splutter, shuttering wisdom, stopping talk. It rattles - trapped behind an ersatz grin seeking relief of articulation; satisfaction of eloquence which will. not come. Eyes burn, turn up, turn aside, seem far off, lost to sense. Sweat slicks twitching lips, gripped tongue reneges, uncompliant. Nothing. No word. Absurd silence. Staunched. Dammed. Pent too long, too long a song of sound gushes. Rushing. Pulsing. Pushed through tense, tender mouth. Clicking ticks of noise drum on clotted air. Stacatto words pit, pit-patter scatter hushed pity, pock punished air between him and all who hear the rattling, prattling, prickling stick of words booming and bombing, patterning this gift of free speech
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