They come weilding a moral purview of the truth,
they decode sentences and go into raptures about thinking,
positivist, meta, they are a breed. Call them intellectuals, call them new brands of a new age.
I wish I were one!
Don’t tell me that the oceans
Are deep and blue.
Tell me that oceans have hurricanes too.
Don’t say that love is the
Most sweet and magical thing.
Say that true love is also
An unbearable pain.
Don’t advise me to dream big
Advise me to dream disasters too.
Exploitation is not an entitlement
Rigidity is not a negotiating tool
Statues are not living symbols
Bigotry a self-defeating tradition
Peace is a deliberate process
Facts are the IED to ignorance
Hunches aren’t a form of science
Solitude isn’t found in loneliness
When are we gonna talk about the unspoken?
Behind of the words a silent ocean of desires
and a coiled knowledge lies in wait,
listen a restless voice in our heart endlessly urging us onward to break the limits of fear and to embrace of our longing.
Unspoken is whatever
we have not desired with all our heart.
One end of the dusty shelf
held upright by a solid sculpture
of readings, the other a vase
of dotted flowers, clearly fake,
eternal plumage.
My beginning, traced through
the words of comic books, then
Michael Crichton, then Kurt Vonnegut,
whatever blared at me on the shelf
or was handed to me.
Colorful panels to creative words.
Lately, a pile of textbooks, some
words revisited, articles about study,
there are always new terms to find.
New wisdom to open up and air out.
More at http://jddehartwriting.blogspot.com.