Free Speech Poem by James Mills

Rogue muscles taunt lips
into a prospect smile - little
prospect of hilarity.
Checked consonants spurt and splutter,
shuttering wisdom, stopping talk.
It rattles - trapped behind an ersatz grin
seeking relief of articulation;
satisfaction of eloquence which
will... not...come.
Eyes burn, turn up, turn aside,
seem far off, lost to sense.
Sweat slicks twitching lips,
gripped tongue reneges,
uncompliant.
Nothing.
No word.
Absurd silence.
Staunched. Dammed.

Pent too long, too long
a song of sound gushes.
Rushing.
Pulsing.
Pushed through
tense, tender mouth.
Clicking ticks of noise
drum on clotted air.
Stacatto words pit,
pit-patter
scattering hushed pity,
parting the gulf of silence between
him and all who hear
the rattling,
prattling,
prickling
stick of words booming and bombing,
patterning his gift of sudden speech.