Polite people do not become poets
We, the unmannered
offer no apologies,
for blaspheming love in our soliloquies,
scavengers of wisdom,
measuring out the world
with our metaphors,
step by step
with our words,
we can wipe out dysfunction
and create a new anthology
death will come,
someday,
for all us poets and our words,
but we will not go gently
And so it came to pass
That she grew up and moved away
No longer walked down
Familiar lanes
Charted her own course
In a faraway place
Leaving behind people
Who would grow to resent her
And cover for their absence of courage
By saying it was her fault
Huddled together wishing her ill
Refusing to look at themselves
Her whole life ahead of her
Were you paying homage to me
Or trying to steal my thunder?
Either way
Know this
I’m always watching from afar
Every nuance, every move
I surround you
You didn’t learn from just anyone
You learned from the best
I advise caution in your approach
But continue with courage
Cross me and you’ll pay
with more than your dangerous curves
Salute me with your honor
And what you really want will
be yours
Have I made myself clear?
Ghosts of the past descend upon
today, machicolating glowing fury
upon the diurnal cavalcade. Beneath
serried corbels in the Jerusalem stone
parapet, humanity in camo queues at
the burning road, makes ready to dance
with fire. Of a sudden, a sanguine bugle
throbs the air: Stand down, ceasefire!
Out of thin air, that is not really so thin,
but is beckoned by the better angels of
our nature, mankind has gathered dire
strength to face down what haunts us.
My courage comes in waves,
washing me away in the ebb
and constant flow, erasing
the features of my face, rubbing
free the crags of my being,
breaking my sharp edges into
smooth and polished places.
Melt the chain, let it
wholly unravel, snip
the cord, bite off
the comment.
Pleaser no more.
Standing in the face
of condescending
email, withering
expression of distaste,
no longer struggling
with worry about
the letter grades other
mortal beings form.
No longer straining
to reach A plus.
Do you feel that failure is your enemy?
Make it your best friend
After all, it taught you so many things.
If not then stop dreaming about
Being another Thomas Alva Edison!
Reach down
in this broken
world to the ragged
and help them
do not perpetuate
the distance
you find between
yourselves
do not purchase
that dream
of dust and dire
circumstances.
That child folded under me like a century of war-torn pages blown away and tethered into nowhere.
Now we sing alone, tearstruck.
A distant home falls harder every second but the skylorn crows don’t stop their skulking.
They are merciless.
One night the breach will break,
The music untangled into rapture beyond earthly recognition will stream through our veins again,
rising against storms that enrage survival.
Let’s leave lovelessness to rot away.
Just stay still with me underneath the stardusted shadow cries while we wait.
That rock concert in New Haven, Connecticut took me by surprise
and why – the national anthem and the crowd was ready,
as one the many stood and hooted for the band.
I didn’t, a white girl whose knees knocked and never thought
of kneeling. Short of breath under the video of carpet bombing
of Cambodia, over the top, over the edge saturation
killing in Cambodia. And this was my country ’tis of thee
I sat in protest. Forty years later the black man kneeled
in more courage than I had in a pot-smoke crowd.
I ducked when some guy yelled I should stand
but there are times when you can’t, when the wrong
is too great, and the great isn’t great enough. So when
Judge Ruth says it’s wrong not to stand but not illegal
I know it can be right and the only thing you can do,
and perhaps it’s better to let wrong drive you to your knees
than sit like a numb ass.
More at http://triciaknoll.com.