Have you heard of the wild, wild wind
Wandering with whispers as it slithers beneath skin?
Have you dreamed of dancing stars, with their
doleful, wide-eye maws?
Have you felt the taste of summer,
sweet and smooth against your brash but bleeding lips?
These open-vein, cracked-tooth theories,
dug up against their will,
Stand teary-eyed under glowing skies
As their children beat them still.
While these woeful, wanton wisps of wild things
dream in drifts of ire and rage,
Screaming "Fie!" to the masses
of crawling, cretinous crowds who trample and crush their cage.
You are the martyr, having stood so satisfied
behind these bars of iron and ice, while the world encircled demise.
Oh have you heard, deep down below, the creeping of a name?
Winding up through feet and hips and tattered lips,
who dare to speak for fame.
Darling wild, once were you mild,
Long before you were ever tame.
Oh, darling child, have you heard
What lies, silent, in the wake of your game