Oct. 14, 2013

These Words Must...

by William Irving (author's profile)



All cells speak in cruelty
Where the melting of the sun
is stingy with its [?]
Brues crave agony screams
bouncing off the walls

I cannot dig love
How could I mention the hardness
Without giving you the self
Rocks melt to dear touches

-If these words must touch
What if you were me, imprisoned
Where this concrete devours torment

And rehabilitators masquerade
As model citizens that [?]
Mask the face of the constitution
in circumventions to deny
A malicious application of force

What if you were me
Where the agonizing please of other prisoners
Ache my ears days-on-end
As the voice of freedom [?]
Everyone confined in general

This anger must voice its optiism
like appeals to heal injustice
optimism resides in this kiss to foreplay undressing
What if you were me insomuchas

State property, bussed across the state
shackled in more chains than the worst of dogs
I've made hooch stronger
than the wills of weak hearts

I do not wish you as I
but!, what if you were me
the poetry no longer seekin' to post
I may give up writing whenever
love is not returned

-if I were you, I would not be
unable to lick the butterscotch I can't taste,
or, savor the breeze to embrace new memories
unpolluted by the cruelty of these cells
the agony that cries without bearing tears

I am certain there is less
sweetness in these cold days
that won't melt this candy
in my mouth a taste-to-bad - 9/27/13 9.10am

William Irving


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