New (old) poem, v 1.2

So this one got some love at the Institute's open mic, and so I figured I'd throw it out there.

Presently Untitled

I threw words at you
like they were free.

like there was a neverendingstoreroom

of circles and lines
of pens ink paper
oxygen, vocal chords,

do you know how hard it is to keep
individual closets
of I's and U's,
of A's and Eees,
and, Of Course,
O's
O's sorted into

O! and o(we)
Oh? OOOOOOOOOH

man, this shit is complicated!

I'm not just a poet,
I'm a verbal taxonomist.
I can separate words into philum,
different letters into
genus and species
and I threw all that
at you

like it was free.

I threw words at you like

stones

pebbles for the extra protection
you installed around your ears

rocks to knock
the phillistine stubborness
out of you

stalagmites
to chase the spectres
from your shoulders

maybe a boulder big enough

to break you from your rut,
explode in your gut

as you exhale generations of tears
waiting to burst through

your eyedoors and
slide down
your
f
a
c
e

I went to my armory,
loaded up like Neo and Denzel,
packing as many syllables as I could carry
because you can't be too careful these days.

the right combination of
letters can make all the difference.

I layered letters like I was

flying to Iceland
with a layover in Ecuador.

My words stood ready
to attend you.

they would've been your servants and
your kingdom.

they would've blown down doors
and carried your luggage.

They would've cut down adversaries
and cooked you dinner.

My words
would've rubbed your feet
while running your meetings
and making theater reservations.

You could have had them,
supped on them so much
you got sick of them.

But you chose another vocabulary.
Another reservoir
Another language.

and I always lose
in the translation.