May 6, 2021

ClusterGist

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Silent Sound

3 min read

Silent Sound

( By Smile Austin)

Fair lows and highs there’s no time to jest,
Let me spill this tale in the manner of it’s measures,

There lives a voice my age beneath the belly of my mind,
a man of silent sound, vassal to my charge, liberal of mouth, hither on the edge of my character teaching it the do and don’t of existence,

While I was yet an aglet-baby a puppet to noisome sounds,
The poisoning of my soul, this noises was twice as loud as thunder, as when the cloud in storm crack,
Like the roaring of lions,
Like the belly of the sea bust open by wind,
Like the marching of a million soldiers at the ordinance of war,
Like the billows of wild trumpets the call of clarion,
Like the chirping of restless crickets in the stillness of night.
Like the running tongue of an unrighteous woman
outrunning her prey,

My ears in it’s youngness of years were open as wide as a double street in the heart of Lagos ,
hence the speed of noise became froward towards my hearing,
I was confine to it’s manacles, this vent my intent and made me cower to it baffles, I was thrown into utter discomfort ,
an outright wrestle and battle with rights and wrongs.
And like a fair countrywoman fairer than the fairest,
This noises wear upon itself the verisimilitude of a thousand wooers,
My wit became little fitted in knowing, and so I became a serf,
deaf to the silent sound of my own knowing.

Like a ply of needle this noises meddled in the affairs of me, piercing hurtfully everywhere vulnerable within my
character,
my eyes can speak, a bold witness of the things I went through,
nothing good done of my own wit was deem fit,
I was made to think myself stupid to walk with my legs instead of my hands by this devilish noise,
This noiseless noise as I see it clear now standing naked before my very eyes, a vile fiddler, who in its envious craft wangled with everything I knew, to break and not to make.

Not until my path went rough and sour,
Not until every soothing scape my side,
Not until I bite my lips in anguish and taste the pressure of my blood,
Not until everything good was turn upside bad,

Hence the will to improvise, to salvage my sorry self,
And all this years the nourishment to flourish in this
noisy neighborhood lives within the bowels of my mind
a tapestry of my own divine born-with (wit)

I can boldly tell my son and daughters and my compatriot
build thy ears a bulwark of the strongest brick,
For thy hearing sake ye shall do good and live longer,
for the sake of this many noise a lot has gone astray and young men die, as well as old,
Listen only to the silent sound beneath your mind,
and let thy deeds win the prize,
May peace build a comfortable fortress over the space of your heart.

Poet: Smile Austin

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