We steal our words from a primal source
existing before utterances took their course
Forgotten in faded mists of history,
echoed in our own crib side infancy,
is lost the frustration and isolation
that comes with no means of communication
Imprisoned in the primeval dark,
we search for a light, a verbal spark
At first we cry, a groan, a moan,
to let others know they\'re not alone
We desperately search for a means to thresh
out our emotions, buried in flesh
With a gasping, grasping, groping attempt,
to express hunger, love or contempt,
a shaping of noises is expressed
to spit out what\'s deep inside our chest
There\'s a burning thirst for understanding,
but confusion, is comprehension\'s river damming
With guttural grunts we flail around
to breath a thought into a sound
Yet no clamor conveys the feeling inside,
transmission of peace or hate to describe
So we imitate sounds that others make,
butchering feelings and emotions that are fake
Tired of all our verbal philandering
we\'re made a prisoner of misunderstanding
Until out of desperation we reach audibly
to vomit an unintelligible cacophony
A volcanic force in convulsive spasms
spontaneously erupts in vocal orgasms
All words stolen, from their inventor
All thoughts plagiarized, the ideas of a mentor
That\'s our feeble human attempt,
internal experiences in poems to vent
Words created and looted now abound
to put nature\'s mysteries into a sound