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