Revolution Poem by Smoky Hoss

Such a quiet word
when pronounced properly,
such a violent word
when done impetuously -
A negative necessity
of brief moments
that offer oblivion
as a course of charitable concern
in the insatiable desire
to cure life's little corruptions -
(and yet, the cancer spreads...)
So beautiful it is
when considered and caressed
in a dream,
the hope of hapless humanity,
the way out, the way in,
the place to start, the place to end _
An answer, at times, it would seem,
to mankind's mysterious madness; or
perhaps merely another way
to pass, with purpose,
the long and lonely days _