Skip to main content

Was It Something I Should Have Said?





Photo by Steve Halama on Unsplash



When poets fly in flocks 
do they fly in formation?
Then after generations 
become a kind of nation.
Would there be bigotry 
for those without acculturation?
Even for the minor poets? 

Could it be sublimated 
or would they battle?
Would there be a grunge scene 
Like in the 90's in Seattle?
Could you trace its roots 
to human gods, 
And their games of thrones?
Would there be rigid rules? 
Would intellectuals be chiseled, 
or would they be stoned?
Could they emulate Bukowski? 
John Malkovich his head?
Would they prophesy, 
write prayers like Rumi, 
for their daily bread?

Could they write for readers, 
dreamers, believers?
Would they make it most accessible?
Could they become irrepressible?
So jaded and cynical you could show no love.

If you were enthusiastic 
would they treat you like a groupie, 
or a money mark?
If I wanted to swim with those fishes 
would I have to become a shark?
Would they put up velvet ropes, 
choosing only two of each kind, 
A lot like Noah's ark?
Or would we celebrate each other 
like Shakespeare in the park?

Would we just do it like Nike?
Or carefully choose 
what colonizes our psyche?
Would we stay sensitive 
even with our pens?
If we crash and break a wing, 
have the nerve to fly again?

Gain competence and confidence, 
felicity and freedom. 
Get so good we preach.
Would we learn multi- perspectivity 
from all that we teach?
Religiously and scientifically 
become one family.
Exploring all there is, 
was or could be,
With a universal kind of love.
Could we build a safer world, 
full of vibrant colors, 
that embraces my son Deven?
Realizing my Utopian dreams, 
my idea of heaven.
Would my dreaming hypnotize?
It's better than holding hands in hell,
even while unrealized.





Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The 5 People Who Make Life Heaven

They listen when you need to talk Talk when you need to listen They know your darkness Let you know theirs Without judgement and expectation You can talk to them about how you see things They don't get angry or anxious when you disagree Trust you enough to say what they really think Read tweets and novels Never make you beg or grovel Won't allow it Remind you that you're better than that Lay some of their burden on you Let you behind their wall Feel welcome behind yours You feel each other with heart and mind Even if you don't explain yourself  They get you You get them These are the ones that make life worth living Make you love to be alive Reflect you to you Teach and learn Some days the lead singer Some days the band These are the ones You can count on one hand (c) Ron Kennedy 

Poetry Tree

I saw no birds grieve No fallen leaves No branches on the ground None made a sound It wasn’t rotten It didn’t die in a storm Capitalism came In its progress form To take one of my last  Best refuges from me I may be the only one who noticed The death of my poetry tree.

Stargazing

Photo by  Gustavo Spindula  on  Unsplash Sometimes I check my neck to see if it’s still Half red, half dirty and half um Andrew, I’m still gonna need some Help with that Math We live in an era where Before you even speak an opinion You might be attacked For what you have Or don’t How you look What you might say How you act Who you love Where you live That you give a damn about facts That you empathize with those cast As villains in the common narrative Or even that you don’t naturally fall in line Being of your own mind Self-educated Self meditated Spiritually in moments sublime I lay on my back & count the stars listening to For Now Thinking on philosophies that rhyme Alone & feeling fine.