Revolution

Does a revelation feel like this? Does it burn hot and fall to dust in my hands? I am clouded with ideas from novels and poetry That turns all of my daydreams in to prize winning notions. But I still taste the dirt when I eat with my fingers. I am polluted and tampered with and there is no justice here I have fallen through the hands of so many Come out looking like some badly beaten, fighting-mad dog. There is no cause for sympathy. I am rudimentary and underscored And this audience is getting bored I just want to wash it away and start again Turn off the loud speaker that speaks so distantly Even though I know the voices are calling to me I can’t be bothered anymore With revelation I’ve got a revolution to plan.