PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

my tongue is silenced

nothing said

against the violence

nothing is heard

not an utterance not a syllable

not a word

though these lips be kissable

truths are lying

where the moonbeam bends

daylight is dying

it never ends

the crowd is mute

no one stays

no wistful throng

my tears they sting

no one plays

 my fipple flute

no one sings

7 billion strong

they are filled by their own versions

like the lingering objection of breathes

as my lips solidify from the incursions

shut so tight by the bond of night

and the ever presence of death