Words Work; let me breathe
©June 6th 2020, Olan L. Smith
My mouth dribbles words on the screen, no one understands
But the most astute,
Clamberings in the night, loud cymbals clanging notes not written,
As we listen to the sounds of the rings of Saturn―
We pound chaos in the minds of the believer,
They all say mama, with gusto, and indulge.
A shameful action protested in the minds of humans,
Lay me down tonight and lynch me on the ground,
We will pound chaos into it, shake the world,
Right the wickedness that has shown its face to the sun!
Mama!
I want my mama, let me breathe.
YOU ARE READING
Poems from the Quill, by Olan L. Smith
Poetry"Poems from the Quill" is where I place current works that don't fall into other collections. It is here you will find obscure poems that range from constraint to free-verse. I began this collection as a contest entry, years ago, for what was then t...
