Torch! Poem by GRANT FRASER

The thinking muscle
accounts for that side
of things,
and words,
be they weightier
next time...

I mean - to smash
whole silent hysteria's
of the inhumane stage down,

Olympian Mouthed!

Winding word cable out
into the very atmosphere,
where we currently avoid
detection,

And everything unleashed
sears the inner side of the brain,
like a burning rocket of clarification,

Or like when you write in your own blood,
it's stark red and shameful!

And you are a disgrace,
or misplaced,
and you are, you are,
the true sounding board,

Believe it, when about
to resort to something new,

Self must play itself
out in endless loops,

Until the chain lies broken,

Well go on then!

Run!

True freedom does not last long...