Sunday, February 14, 2016

Why Poems

I write because I can't help myself,
certainly not for something to eat:
poets don't sell poems on the street.
I traded plumbing work for food...
plumber/poet being as oxymoronic
as I could live.  Many poets don't make
it out of their families alive; thriving in
a nest of convoluted over intelligence
of intellect makes the sensitive, arty
types run from the corral screaming
for air, like flowers for sun. Many don't
make it and are unknown, refused by
fellow humans 'til they become human 
refuse, dying with an armed needle on
a lonely, sheet less mattress to dissolve.
Political poets write with a bulls eye on
their back: few people are really ready
to hear the truth...even if it's just about
beauty and love, not war and hate...
"Can't have no commies, hippies, free
lovers and thinkers on our blockheads.
It's a conspiracy against fluoridation."
Lorca's being taken out and shot was
a clear signal that trying to escape from
the primitive brain would not be tolerated,
and never has been by straight arrow
lying, cheating criminals we elect, or,
simply seize power because they can.
But, poets, or, poetry has always been
transcendent of reason based on fear.
Poetry is the unknown known and shown,
which makes it so hard, so shocking, so
unnerving, so inciting, so ecstatic, so
chaotic, so confusing, so magnetic, so
soul thirst quenching to read. It's why we
remember songs and poems; because 
words and or sounds grip us by the roots
of our beings and won't ever, ever let us
let go of being human.


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