Tuesday 26 July 2011

JUST POETRY (XLIII)




THE CALL OF THE WILD



Poetry is not an answer

Poetry is a calling

a vision that does not vanish

just because nothing

concrete comes along, or

because the kingdom of heaven

is under some tyrant's foot



Poetry is not a right

Poetry is a demand

to be left alone

or joined together or whatever

we need to live



Poetry is not an ideology

poets choose life

over ideas, love people

more than theories, and really would

prefer a kiss to a lecture



Poetry



Poetry is not a government

Poetry is a revolution

guerrillas -- si!

politicians -- no!



Poetry is always hungry

for all that is

forbidden

poetry never stops drinking

not even after the last drop, if we

run out of wine poets will

figure a way to ferment rain



Poetry wears taboos

like perfume with a red shirt

and a feather in the cap,

sandals or bare feet, and

sleeps nude with the door unlocked



Poetry cuts up propriety into campfire logs and sits

around proclaiming life's glories far into

each starry night, poetry burns prudence

like it was a stick of aromatic incense or

the even more fragrant odor of the heretic

aflame at the stake, eternally unwilling

to swear allegiance

to foul breathed censors

with torches in their hands



Poetry smells like a fart

in every single court of law and smells

like fresh mountain air

in every dank jail cell



Poetry is unreliable

Poetry will always jump the fence

just when you think poets are behind you

they show up somewhere off the beaten path

absent without leave, beckoning for you

to take your boots off and listen to the birds



Poetry is myopic and refuses to wear glasses

never sees no trespassing signs and always

prefers to be up touching close to everything

skin to skin, skin to sky, skin to light

poetry loves skin, loathes coverings



Poetry is not mature

it will act like a child

to the point of social embarrassment

if you try to pin poetry down

it will throw a fit

yet it can sit quietly for hours

playing with a flower



Poetry has no manners

it will undress in public everyday of the week

go shamelessly naked at high noon on holidays

and play with itself, smiling



Poetry is not just sexual

not just monosexual

nor just homosexual

nor just heterosexual

nor bisexual

or asexual

poetry is erotic and is willing

any way you want to try it



Poetry



Poetry has no god

there is no church of poetry

no ministers and certainly no priests

no catechisms nor sacred texts

and no devils either

or sin, for that matter, original

synthetic, cloned or otherwise, no sin



Poetry



In the beginning was the word

and from then until the end

let there always be



Poetry!









Kalamu ya Salaam




THE CALL OF THE WILD



Poetry is not an answer

Poetry is a calling

a vision that does not vanish

just because nothing

concrete comes along, or

because the kingdom of heaven

is under some tyrant's foot



Poetry is not a right

Poetry is a demand

to be left alone

or joined together or whatever

we need to live



Poetry is not an ideology

poets choose life

over ideas, love people

more than theories, and really would

prefer a kiss to a lecture



Poetry



Poetry is not a government

Poetry is a revolution

guerrillas -- si!

politicians -- no!



Poetry is always hungry

for all that is

forbidden

poetry never stops drinking

not even after the last drop, if we

run out of wine poets will

figure a way to ferment rain



Poetry wears taboos

like perfume with a red shirt

and a feather in the cap,

sandals or bare feet, and

sleeps nude with the door unlocked



Poetry cuts up propriety into campfire logs and sits

around proclaiming life's glories far into

each starry night, poetry burns prudence

like it was a stick of aromatic incense or

the even more fragrant odor of the heretic

aflame at the stake, eternally unwilling

to swear allegiance

to foul breathed censors

with torches in their hands



Poetry smells like a fart

in every single court of law and smells

like fresh mountain air

in every dank jail cell



Poetry is unreliable

Poetry will always jump the fence

just when you think poets are behind you

they show up somewhere off the beaten path

absent without leave, beckoning for you

to take your boots off and listen to the birds



Poetry is myopic and refuses to wear glasses

never sees no trespassing signs and always

prefers to be up touching close to everything

skin to skin, skin to sky, skin to light

poetry loves skin, loathes coverings



Poetry is not mature

it will act like a child

to the point of social embarrassment

if you try to pin poetry down

it will throw a fit

yet it can sit quietly for hours

playing with a flower



Poetry has no manners

it will undress in public everyday of the week

go shamelessly naked at high noon on holidays

and play with itself, smiling



Poetry is not just sexual

not just monosexual

nor just homosexual

nor just heterosexual

nor bisexual

or asexual

poetry is erotic and is willing

any way you want to try it



Poetry



Poetry has no god

there is no church of poetry

no ministers and certainly no priests

no catechisms nor sacred texts

and no devils either

or sin, for that matter, original

synthetic, cloned or otherwise, no sin



Poetry



In the beginning was the word

and from then until the end

let there always be



Poetry!









Kalamu ya Salaam

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