So... I guess you should know I write poetry

If we ignore the incredibly long unexplained hiatus (sorry) something pretty big happened, I started sharing my poetry. Writing poetry isn't new to me, I have been doing so (mostly badly) since kindergarten (like I said... badly), but a month or so ago I did something out of character for me, I shared it at an open mic night (yeah, like with actual people... it surprised me too). After I dispelled whatever possessed me from my mind I actually felt... well... kinda good. So yeah poetry, who knew? Anyway, most of it is written in a little book I carry with me pretty much everywhere I go, and that's precisely where it shall stay. Today however I am in a sharing mood, so here it goes: my latest poem:

My heart is a dead language

and you…

You pronounce every syllable perfectly

I spoke it clearly once before

but I…

I made that mistake secretly

Lacking as they were in exuberance,

my words could not escape their own weight.

Those words that broke the silence

defied the my looming lonely fate.

Alas defiance grants no favor,

and I faced Hades as a rebel.

a shadowed soldier played the jailer,

For chains my mind’s own drivel.

Shackled as I was by my own prospects,

unable to escape from bonds so strong.

I thought of silver couplets,

but my heart composed a song.

What value could these lyrics claim?

What hope is there in art?

If the song’s stale dialect is the same

as the one that veils my heart.

A shout into the void they call it,

so why must I compose

just one more verse before my respite?

I’ll write it down then I suppose

in hopes that you will translate.

S'agapo, or so I think it goes,

I said it once in a spate

of the language of my woes.

I spoke it clearly once before

But I…

I made that mistake secretly

My heart is a dead language

And you…

You pronounce every syllable perfectly

TA- 12/8/14