Mouth tapered shut,
blank stares and red eyes,
what social civilians we are;
When books become paper
and trees become leaves,
we sink into the pavement tar.
Language of the People
By Soubhik Barari
Acton-Boxborough Regional High School // Grade 11
Sugar-coat rhythms
and radio disease,
their message was still the same:
Censorship riots
and red-flag pirates,
peeling the seed of the flame.
Amidst the gun-violence
and racism tolerance,
backwards their words spelled “conform.”
“Buy the right shoes,
wear your hat like you mean it,
you’ll nicely sink into the norm.”
Language of the people,
the chaos of speech,
“Our words are bloodless and easy,”
says the street man, last to leave.
Hands like runners,
marathon fingers,
their rusted minds turn green;
Cellular circuitry
breaking the pupils,
the holy electronic breach.
Mouth tapered shut,
blank stares and red eyes,
what social civilians we are;
When books become paper
and trees become leaves,
we sink into the pavement tar.
Language of the people,
the chaos of speech,
“Our fingers nimble like lightning,”
says the street boy with dented teeth.
My mother once told me
that I should not pay heed,
or so I’ll slip and drown
to the sound of the rolling beat.
Language of the people,
they hail it as a feat,
“We refuse to open ourselves to you,”
says the lone man on the street.