Word of Mouth (The Poet Tree)

This is
My hand, passed down
From the diaspora.
But dealt by God, but dealt by God.
This is

My hand
& I’ve learned how
To exactly play it.
I swim beyond the stream, daring
To dream

& read
The truth between
lies under protection
Of the media’$ sad disguise.
This is

My hand
& I play it
One moment at a time,
In search of the light of the world
To raze

These days
Of discontent
With occupying
The mind: revolution begins
Within

These tags
Of wild-styled
Consciousness in figures
Of newspeech traveling by word
Of mouth.