Someone had it written clear-
that one should not just keep pacing
on this earth, like a somnambulist do.
Instead, he should lay beside the grass.
Ears close to the ground hearing
faint sounds and whispers coming
from the earth’s bosom.
Hearing how the rhythmic breath
of stillborn seeds of coniferous trees
waiting to break out of its shell,
awakening to the hymn of the spring.
Hearing how aquifers running deep
into crevices, into rivers, carving
canyons, gorges, fjords to the open seas.
Sailing away, riding with the wind.
Hearing the tides keep pushing,
and pulling in. Or the breaking waves
into the cliffs. Scouring the shoreline
of an island down to the ocean floor.
Hearing how the mountains gliding
its terrestrial skin past each other.
Like a potter reshaping and remolding
the land into a new continent.
Hearing how it grumbles beneath,
venting out ash plumes and lava streams.
A force roused from deep slumber
churning mood swings in its womb.
Someone had it written clear-
that one should not just keep pacing
on this earth, like a somnambulist do.
We should hear the gathering storms
of the impending avalanche. Iceberg splitting.
The glacier receding. Oil gushes, spilling
over the gulf. Helpless cacophony of wildlife
endangered. Landslides and the levees
breached by hurricane. Rainforest on fire.
Desert sands advancing. Clods of soil
drying up. Locusts swarming over fields.
Ground crumbling into sinkholes.
We should hear how restless it gets
day after day, when the clock is ticking out.
Faint sounds becoming loud voices
sending distress call to reckon with,
summoning mankind to listen. The earth
finally eclipsing to its perilous journey.
They Are Silent
Posted in Books, Current Affairs, Film, Literature, Philosophy, Poetry, Politics, Relationships, Religion, Social Commentary, Society, tagged actual, applause, audience, bait, beans, beehive, bees, bite, blind, cast, circus, clasp, coal, corners, deceit, disguise, double, doves, ears, edges, excuse, eyes, fish, fishy, fly, gossip run, gullible, hard, hear, heavy, honey, hook, ignorance, illusuion, imagine, incensed hot, innards, judgment, laceration, like, line, magician, mockery, mouth, naivete, One, open, over, overflow, phantom, pillars break, poem, poetry, puppets, ready, ripe, scream, see, shadow, sharp, show, silent, sorts, sound, spill, statues, sting, stones, stop, sword, talking, tangle, things, thrown, tongues, trick, truth, under, victims, weight, whistle, white, wish, words, worship on July 13, 2013| Leave a Comment »
They are silent, yes, they are silent.
I imagine them talking on corners
sounding like the bees ready to sting.
And the beehive is ripe and heavy
with gossip running over like honey.
The audience, they lined up like stones-
incensed hot coals ready to be casted
and thrown at statues and pillars
breaking under the weight of judgment.
They are silent, yes, they are silent.
A mockery of sorts, they like the show.
Shadow puppets will scream and whistle.
They are victims to a phantom in a circus
and worship the magician with words.
I wish the sword will tangle with tongues,
lacerate the innards and spill the beans.
I wish the fish will bite the bait
and see the hook clasp hard the mouth
to stop fishy things from overflowing.
They are silent, yes, they are silent.
The blind is not actually blind
but open eyes would like to see illusions.
They have ears but do not want to hear
truth as sharp at its double edges.
Applause will fly like white doves
for the trick and the disguise deceives
the gullible and naivete. Silent ones
whose ignorance excuses no one.
They are silent, yes, they are silent.
Read Full Post »