Untamed Word

Untamed Word

It ran along the boulders ledge, bright sun dashed through its mane, and naked, tore upon the windswept reach, and plunged 50 feet down into the crystalline waters of the mountain lake, alps stretching as far as the eye can see on either side,  the torpid heat and desert dry dust, choking the air, washed in an instant from that soul, with effusive joy and unbridled care...

You will not tame my word ...

No self made prison, will make a curse, or stop the pen from exploding onto the page with orgiastic verse. I break the tip of my pencil with my teeth, and running the lead across some rugged boulder, find some remnant of a worn out book jacket, read a thousand times, stinking of backpacks and pine sap, and scribble the words on the inside cover, while all about me is blue, and wild in green, beasts and untamed natural majesty exploding on the scene...

You will not tame my word ...

It comes like a ravenous lion from the heartland of my soul, and catching you in its yellow eyes, pupils dilating in its edacious glare, leaps into the air, with all claws blazing, slashing, ripping a hole into the sanctity of your tight little box, your manufactured certainty; Fangs sinking so deep into the meat of your petrified social carcass the blood gushes in fountains into the air. A nose disappearing into the belly of you, to rip the sodden viscera from your corpulent lassitude...

You will not tame my word ...

I swim with wild dolphins, make love in bright summer meadows filled with the sweaty mass of slinking skin, sucking in the perfume of pollinated musk, and at dusk, over campfires of fragrant green smoke, slowly roast the gifts that were caught in those rushing heady waters of the untamed hearts...

You will not tame my word ...

I will not wear your prissy gowned shirts, or pretend not to care when you turn your eyes away from some wild animal that hurts. I will not shut my mouth as you screw the earth, or bind my hands with your civilized twine as you celebrate some poxy legislative stillbirth with mirth...

You will not tame my word ...

For it was wild when it was born, formed from a simmering stew, a fiery reach, torn from the wild and the blue, crashing within the winds upon a storm swept beach, descending upon this earth in thunder, and in lightning, striking its girth...

You will not tame my word ...

It will not sit in silence as the darkness descends, or boxed into a screen, retreat, as all the world pretends. If you thought you held the chains, or manacled the mouth with your ill gotten gains, think again, for it fights to be heard...

You will not tame my word ...

It does not recognize your borders, or kowtow to all your barking orders, it will not quietly slip into the depths, or in silence, rescind those heartless steps. When you formulate your plans, and factor out this sweet freedoms sands, watch that they don't swirl in some almighty sirocco and crash upon your hourglass from without, burying you in the truth of your doubt...

You will not tame my word...

Yet! fear not the untamed heart, fear not the word, nor the formless might at the start. For it is only the manacles it sweeps away, the chains, the fettering binds, the fractured strains, the lying minds, leaving the heart and soul the freedom to play, to sweep in gushing tides, and create a brand new way...

You will not tame this word, not before all that is to be said, has been heard, for in every untamed heart, resides, the untamed word.

© Richard Michael Parker 2011