An axe could be so
swift
I did not know the nakedness of words
needs no adornment
And in my wildest naive dreams
I never knew
a poem
could be my salvation,
save me, save me, save me
from temptation
cleave me in two
segregate
pure from impure
and drive me
a million miles from this
madhouse of ghosts
where tongues fester,
barbed like
scorpions tails,
where virtue
waits patiently
and then explodes
breaching prison walls
of man made madness.
Wow... I love the acceleration, like zero to sixty in three seconds... quiet words of contemplation to a ringing full-throated roar of cumbusting virtue...