Rough Draft

I wonder who will read this.

Who will get monumental cries dripped from the Heavens
To lay by the sulfured remains of Hell's waste side.
Who will read this.
Gaze upon pix-elated ink under the glare of a screen
Its dark humility a comfort in a
shadow dancer's insomniacs dream. Who will be amazed?
Who will challenge little bits of imagery.
Call this syntax a piece of prose
Break my onomatopoeias oomph with a frolicking woe.
Who shall it reach?
Does this poem expand the
thunderous seas and parched desert? Does this poem
include a cartographer's map and grid like
balance on A1 and below the equator
where tribes still dance by fire
and languages fall short of communication?
Who will love thee?
Who will want to adorn their heads with this prickly crown
Seek vengeance in words when it is not allowed
be the rebel when no one wants to be
speak to their demons face to face
and spit in the face of their doom like hilarity?
I wonder who will read this.
Who will get monumental cries dripped from the Heavens
To lay by the sulfured remains of Hell's waste side.
Who will it reach
Teach
Inspire
Desire
Entrance
Romance
Hypnotize
Deny
Who will this poem be
If no one
Takes her seriously?

-b.r.rivera-taylor
9 of 30
#30in30