Ben Franklins Rosetta Stone

 willing to smelt
every last scrap of understanding
I have
to forge a key
to tie to a kite
to tease the thunder
with the exposed underbelly
of a soul too distracted
with dissecting intellect
to substantiate

alleviate the loose threads
digging like worms
through sterile dirt
with electricity

take the academic
out of translation
and communicate
with blunt force

assist the rebellion
with a hedonism
beyond discipline
and
choke the ruler
with the propaganda of reality

embrace the illusion
with a heart spread out
through nervous system
splicing together
the negative charge of entirety

I would rather
whet my appetite
as the fry cook of my own conceptions
than to be a laborer
for the letters
of the menu