Spoken word is the bird that sings of peace and release. Freedom for all upon this blue ball or flat plain depending your sane addition or subtraction of truth to youth to old and everyone in between. We all have seen how this ends, how morals and dreams must bend, to dark, unenlightened powers that should not be, could not be without our compliance, without our practiced submission. Where is the vision of those with three open dies? Where's the voice of those who do not lie? In passive pastures, waiting to be saved? Spoken word art gives voice to the heart that must speak or will leak of passion gone bad from non-use, creative abuse. The hope for a truce rests between our ears, but the domain there has been ransacked for years, co-opted by peddlers who make fortunes from fears, and find profit in tears dropped by those who still hear life's glorious pulse, which has never stopped and won't be copped. These words speak me. Are you part of my community? Soul first from which matter bursts? And speaking of firsts, want to know what my first love was and continues to be? The word synonym, synonyms, clove, verbs, cilantro, consonants, the tasty word which was with God, which was God, at the start of time which was never a line of beginning, middle and end. It's all middle. Played like a fiddle while we square dance in a worldwide trance, hating on each other without even a glance, let alone a consideration to mourn for all spilled blood. Don't let lines map out territory. In the one sacred place, the temple between your ears, which gets clogged with implanted fears, not yours. Return that crap to its center, spare your frontal lobes, the blinder that whizzes away precious ancient memories of a united start, where we are medics of each other's heart. The better I tend to yours, the better my own will beat. In the more I block your path, the more hot colds at my feet. Life has laws and principles that govern even the richest fools. Kindly observe life and life will kindly observe you. We would do well to leave debates where the choices are only two. Orchestrated binary rage is the most used plot played on this earth stage. Driggers and ego grenades are planted all over the place, but when you look, you see intentional provocations shoved in your face. Mastery and maturity detonates the bait, keeps its cognition straight, refuses to choose hate, does not succumb to the state and knows it is never too late to own yourself, to own your middle, you're right now, the only real part.