Poetry slams
Like a fist
Curled tight
And hurled
From the
Mouth of the Soul.
It's bliss;
It's the long
Dark kiss
Of the Muse
That I miss.

Violent orgy
Of words
That collapse
And then melt
And unfold
Bleeding the
Song of the Soul
Contained
Too long in
The occupied brain
Burning inside
Of my veins
Rending the chains
Flying against
Time's constraint..

Pregnant magic they float
like great planets
words from all ages
flavoured by every lip brushed
every nuance and
gravitational mind spin
induced by every thinker
every speaker from the
collective energetic coil of humanity.

These words, mantras and
chants of intention,
deep gravitational wells
of meaning and expression,
half forgotten and evoked without passion,
hurled with careless misdirection,
these orbs of arcane meaning...
Words.. My endless love affair with
words which make lightning strikes of ideas,
clothe the primal scream of emotions
mystical stepping stones
between all our realities.
Think about words.
Magic is a string of words
No more no less.. than words.

Magic.
Words.
Magic.
Words.
Language is the mystery of life.

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