***THE VISION***
Every poetic revelation was once a vision
that gently caress my mind
to cherry-pick my diction of imaginary distinctions
and to nurture the statistics of this artistic mission
that poetry has just commission.
my clairvoyant inner mind first sees the aura of the vision;
a cosmos that glitters
like that of a gleaming crystal reflected by sunlight.
I see a mystique whose color chameleon
from white to yellow, orange and blue
like that of the sky at sunrise.
A vision when Poetry promises to be the helper
and the healer of our world
when malnourished minds hurt our sky.
our sky is sobbing ,
Her blue tears dropping
our ocean is flooding
the pillars of our world sagging.
when rage of war lure human to ending,
God command poets to stop pretending
now they need to start attending,
these falling walls of our world needs defending
Man's mind set need re-branding.
seeing our world dancing wrong,
poetry commands me to be strong
urging me to sing a song
that make my tongue
sticky to the upper ridge of my oral cavity
as i battle my too weak to speak lips
and, finally, all words given birth to poetically.
Every poem is a 'VISION.
