Point blank


its a deafening silence
that echoes back to every wall of defense
where the lights that casted the shadow of semantics
feed the mind with ideas that of esoteric

there are fork road and windings
when comes to the manner of speaking
but they all converge to the common road
where meaning and reasons are understood

arguments can go in a circle
where it ends that nobody call tell
like the endless phases of the moon
which beams silver lined the wordy horizon

words can flow smoothly like a river
but it sometimes burn like a dying amber
and when the power of words lance the heart
it leaves our reason turn apart

the truth therewith is a billowing smoke of dust
that calls the rain of knowledge for the task
to cleanse the air from precipitating ashes of ignorance
and inundates the mind to cognizance

why then we cant get right to the center of everything
with frankness and sincerity of truth telling
why we must cloak the world of petty roundabouts
if point blank you can turn on loud a shout

shout till you exhaust every avenues of reason
till the mind wearies out of these endless innovation
till we turn deaf ears by decadence and oblivion
and peace is settled in empty aspiration

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soar throat really bothers me a lot