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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required our script opened on a biography about a boy learning to empty himself in the street so that he could dance and sip memories from the eyes and face of his mother he bears the image of how wild joining a whole story could be like the pains on the forehead like star hunters in the black street like the dark whores in black sister’s street like fog of fire romancing lyrics of poetry it could be the next breath that could take him home from bearing the song of dark room he is a scar, the blemish on mother’s nipple untamed. Light fades… next scene, he became palms joining for prayers a priest waiting on a sacred step from heaven to come by a poetry of war and misery; fierce heart broken in pieces memories sipped from his veins and arteries and heart and pulses... the script says stop but he moved closer to his death wild enough to kill self and resurrect sorrow solitude emptied him aggravation shattered him we wished that that script was never written we sailed out of set but he remained untamed light fades… camera rolling! sound set! Scene three! Take one! Action! he stretched into bodies, into our eyes, into our hearts we all wanted to know what it meant to starve to death leave your memories, feelings and emotion in a windpipe searching into the rippled souls of men that went and never returned to cut through monument, into beyond, into shelves of sadness when time becomes darkness the sun loses concentration of him no knife, no dagger, no piercing object to kill self Props and set wasn’t complete for homicide he would learn to throw himself into the world again to write elegy for his sick mother before she dies Untamed. Light fades…. our script closed on a biography about him learning to be a man even with many responsibilities he planted his yesterday on the stage for boys of tomorrow though, he was thrown away by his mother at birth he has learned that a man must be a man to face his challenges life has taught him to run even from women to be scarce like real men are in the eyes we wrote words for his absence among the boys for memories of his past to crawl and yell for he is fourteen-year-old boy dying of silence silence that his mother caused when she killed his father Joining yesterday and today together in his palms Untamed. Light fades…. Yours Poetically, © John Chizoba Vincen
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