There are words in my head
in my limbs and my ears
there are some for the dead
and for those who can hear.
There's a flood simply waiting
to enlighten the masses
and the bold ones are mating
with the word middle classes.
I am swimming with sparks
and it matters a lot
as each letter leaves marks
and the airwaves run hot.
I pretend that I couldn't
really care what they say
but I know that I wouldn't
want to chase them away.
All you people please listen
to the words that want out
as the syllables glisten
and the consonants pout.
If you like the sensation
of a mellow bouquet
come and read my creation
and consider a stay
As a bird of one feather
I do welcome you, yes.
As together we weather
the critique from the press.
Herbert Nehrlich
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poets-4/
