Verb

Verb What is a poem absent the context of motion a meandering spark of nebulous intent a senseless sentiment bereft of sphere an ultimately monumental apparition a lie of omission and a trivial pursuit of nothing there can be no intensity before breathing before tasting the gun smoke rebellion and anguish in the air before inhaling the acrimonious stench of one-sided comfortable silences and before biting one’s tongue until rage and red ink suddenly crescendo into a scream you’re a poet… so what? a world full of torment and vitriolic laughter is no place for empty sentiments in the end what sacrament will you have sacrificed silence for what will be the punch line of it all when the stars are obfuscated by your failure to protect the sky and all of the water is as black as the hearts of the damned and the Earth has chosen to mirror the austerity of men when all the choirs have died and there’s no one left to praise you who will you pray to who will be your refuge when you finally deduce that you are small? will you awaken when the apocalypse descends will your words miraculously echo new meaning alighting seraphic wings to reach the ears of God an apology shabbily prefacing their recollections when there is nothing left to say in real life what do your insights incite where is your wit the incisive intent of your pen what hours odds and ends are too long for your will too over the top for your “god given gifts” how will you be remembered in the end as you reached for the stars how deep did you dig were you the oracle that God intended the deliverer of liberation diminishing the sum of the dimness if it took withholding nothing to save a no one how much were you willing to give them when it is all said and done what truly was? in retrospect when you spoke what did you move?