Free Speech-The Spoken Word

The voice released, a torrent and a stream, A flood of questions, or a fevered dream. It pulls down curtains that have long been drawn, And brings the silent, hidden things to dawn. The poet's verse, the protest in the square, A tool to fight the tyrant and the snare. It gives the powerless a chance to rise, To lift the hood from blind and fearful eyes. It builds a bridge where once the canyon yawned, And seeds the ground for futures yet unthawed. But from the same deep well, the poison flows, The quiet cruelty that festers and grows. The whispered lie, the slander in the breeze, The ugly word that brings a soul to its knees. A reckless shout, a fire in the hall, That makes the bravest spirit stumble and fall. The bridge of reason burned by hurried hate, A storm unleashed, with no retreat, too late. It gives the hateful, license to incite, And drowns the truth within a raging night. So, stand we here, upon this shifting ground, Where both the balm and bitter sting are found. The gi...
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A Private Word

I have a word that burns like a brand,

A match struck quickly in my hand.

I speak it loud, with a ringing sound,

And they cheer me on, a favored hound.


It's just my wit, a clever phrase,

The turn of mind in my usual ways.

You have that word, and as you try,

It turns to ash before your eyes.


It is not yours to hold or keep,

The well of sound is far too deep.

For me, it is a playful sword;

For you, the verdict of a court.


My history wrote a certain right,

A privilege that makes words light.

Your lineage is an iron chain

That makes your speech a public pain.


When I say it, it's just a joke;

When you say it, the anger’s woke.

The rules are written in the air,

For all to breathe, but none can share.


The silent text, the hidden laws,

Decide the measure of your cause.

I can say it, and you can’t—

It’s not the word, it's the implant

Of power's poison, slow and deep,

While we're all watching, or asleep.

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