I don't want my words
drained into buckets,
mixed with red paint,
transferred to the side
of your buildings, stuck
up in public, naked and unashamed
hinting at the feelings
that I attempt
to express
rather, I would love discourse
liberating, genuine
validating of the possibilities
of postures transmutable
in endless repose of meditations;
gleenings, if you will,
shavings off of other words,
possibly yours,
expecting the unexpected
postulating with life
as the impetus,
emptying all of us
into the gene pool
fabricating the warp and woof
the was, the is, and the will be
so, if you leave me alone
to simmer and stew
I'll concoct and consort
with intent to renew;
fresh perspective is angle times X
minus the box
divide by choice
it all equals voice.