my poem was locked
and loaded
it was hijacked and
misconstrued
ill winds came to blow
it off course,
of course,
and now there's hell
to pay and
no one to pay it
everyone is fast asleep
in their own little sleepy heads
in their own little towns without pity
give me freedom of expression
or gag me with contempt
blindfold me
and bind my hands, cut out my
tongue, and break
the Statue of Liberty into a hundred-
thousand shards of verdigris
never again read my poems, hold me
contemptible, no one will ever rescue me
from another table where talk is cheap
and what will never be said is festering
like a sickness that only poets manifest
and it sticks to the throat like avoidance,
like castration of words, like
Il y eut un silence choqué
censor me and cut off my wings, let the
blood write the words on this page.
Comments
We are in agreement. However
We are in agreement. However, it is those of us who postulate and position ourselves as
*fragile poets* who seem to have issues with knowing when to ignore and when to strike while the iron is hot, so to speak. Afterwards, letting go of the warrior's stance we have assumed in our positioning...
No hard feelings. No residual Medusa head.
Thanks for reading, Lonnie....and isn't that what poetry is all about? Putting to paper our voices.... the thousands in our heads?
A
hi
well stated poem on your stance about self moderation. So unfortunate that some exist who refuse to be at least semi moderate in their words. Such is our world..........stan
Indeed, Stan. But aside from
Indeed, Stan. But aside from sounding like an old broken record (an antique), it's better to look into what determines one's own self-motivation, which leads to self-moderation.
If someone is always on the lookout to moderate others at the *behest* of the fragile-minded, when on earth might you think these fragile souls learn the art of *self-moderation*? It's an easy stance to take throughout one's whole life. *You* fix my problems.
~A
Fine Poem ...
and an important subject. As poets, we are supposed to stir the
innards, say what everyone else is afraid to spout ... the problems
within any community have always been here, and always will be, there
will always be victims thinking they need to be saved, and there will most
assuredly always be those willing to be saviors, and I'm just as sure that
there have always been those that say, you can save yourself.
We as adults should be able to communicate without the addition of any
interpersonal conflicts, but has it ever been that way for mankind? We as
adults share the chance of changing that, right now, here, but, do we, can
we, will we? There is a need for every side, always has been, just the way
life keeps balanced ... is there an answer for all, has there ever been?
You are right Anna, but there must be room for everyone, and there will
be, just a fact, I didn't write it, didn't invent the idea, is very simply is.
a fine poem Anna, one that demands the reader to think
thank you