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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The whispers

They whisper in the coffee shop, a breath,

A fragment of a story, hinting death

Or scandal, or a hidden, newfound grace,

That flickers on each anxious, curious face.


The teller starts with, "Did you hear the news?"

And ends with speculation, soft confusions.

The barber hums, his clippers catch the light,

And pauses just to give the tale a new flight.


He doesn't know the hero or the sin,

But adds a layer where the facts wear thin.

The checkout girl, her movements quick and neat,

Adds a new detail, savory and sweet.


No one can trace the source, the single start,

Of this strange legend woven in the heart.

The story changes with each passing mouth,

A winding river flowing to the south,


It grows, it shrinks, it gains a richer tone,

But the core detail is forever unknown.

It's in the air, a hum, a low vibration,

The town's own, private, dark imagination.


A phantom scandal, or a whispered crime,

That fills the empty, unadventurous time.

And though it binds them, in a common quest,

The truth is never put to the test.


So let them talk, and let the rumor bloom,

And cast its shifting shadows in the gloom.

For what's a town without its one great lie,

The perfect story that will never die.

It is the secret they all love to keep,

That keeps their restless, dreaming minds from sleep.

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