Tongue Tied

Rose and Sun


Herding words to perform tricks,

Acrobatics into ballads, rhymes

That twinkle into good times

Or vocal thunders of the wonders

Out of an angry psyche, or perhaps

Chagrin of a grin of consonants that spin

The lacks of linguistic qualities into

What cracks of frustrations of the tongue,

Can meander through the thistles of epistles

That declaim and blame and shame the world

Which, might avail to twitch its tail or rail

Against the commonplace of not to face

The obvious insanities of the human race.


The error to displace fundamental thought

With fanatical grammatical enticements barely

Face that thinking is not a parade of alphabetics.

The universe of mind entails qualities where language fails,

A place to trace great overtones of sight and sound, feelings

That slip like snakes into the underbrush of all sensation

Where fails the consciousness to follow secret trails.

You cannot catch a color such as red which can bleed

Or roar with fire tornadoes in the Sun or suppose a rose.

Language languishes in weak frustration faced with furious reality.

Language might faintly reflect an astounding effect but never, never

Never contain the torrents gushing moment to moment out of time.









One thought on “Tongue Tied

  1. Language in its incapability to overcome its own limitations, can only be deemed as unique when the small child walks the path of evolution, grasping his immediate environment in his attempt to speak, thus growing out of his limitation by creating his own world in speech, gestures and adaption.
    The mind of the very young child and the world of music have one thing in common:
    Life is being experienced beyond any word ever created.


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