Poetry / Like you or unlike you?
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“Not without poetry—- but a poetry whose quality I know well, harsh, carnal, far from tenderness,
that of their very sky, the only one in truth to move me and bring me inner peace.” ~Albert Camus
I listen, do you?
The reverberation of the earth’s heartbeat as I dig my feet into the sand. And tis not the inner peace I once felt. I hear another rocket ship shaking our earth’s core! Did you know our earth is ripping apart? There were two distinct sounds heard underwater 750 miles in length, the rupture lasted for eight minutes. Unprecedented…like the antonym of a great orgasm…eight minutes??? Same sound which is heard when icebergs crack…what was it, the dramatic soundtrack of the rupture of the Sumatra-Andaman Fault. Who is listening, why are they listening, for tsunamis? The microphones that captured the sound are part of a global network of instruments that monitor compliance with the Comprehensive Nuclear Test Ban Treaty. aaah that mandate!
Are you now surmising, presuming, envisioning, conceiving…getting my drift?
Can you breathe? When the sacred silence speaks to me, I can! The sun’s morning rays piercing through Grandmother and Greatgrandfather evergreens, is it the light which passeth understanding? Or a shrouded radioactive fallout?
The abuse is embodying the poetry.
Fifty billion dollars, for the space program, not million—- fifty billion. Aren’t we awake?
Can we not see through the shame?
And is there someone to blame?
In a planet, our planet reeking with poverty, disease, hunger and homelessness! Dare I say mass retardation?
Evolution only a word. Peace a concept. Love an illusion? I cannot breathe when war suffocates hope, when billion dollar movie franchises define our priorities. Tens of millions, hundreds of millions, billions are dished out and accepted by ball players with no balls, and applauded by those with invisible testicles.
Are you now thinking, suspecting, severing, discriminating the sounds I hear?
It is no one’s fault and everyone’s.
Oh the sacred silence, I faintly remember—- is incredible, when you listen… truly savor, but this tis a silence that hides behind lies. Are we frightened to listen, to speak of it? The sun when she rises…assuring us of another day! and the music in the moonlight promising another blessed night.
ah ha, the truth is discovered within the silence. Perhaps that is why it is barely distinguishable from the lies.
Perhaps Mother Nature is crying for the very first time. I’m guessing she’s shedding her last tears. Have you ever reckoned of that silent night, when the Sun is so exhausted, and decides to sleep in, sleep late, sleep some more and says: ” FUCK IT, I is not getting up!!!”
I’ll pen it again, till all my pens are dry, till I’ve broken another keyboard tapping out my cry.
Poetry is only written by those who feel great pain. And this other silence is only for cowards!
So, I weep and I write, I listen for the peace, and I breathe in only truth. And in my lifetime, which is not guaranteed,
I pray!
I pray for MY GOD to intervene, and all the poets to scream!
Like YOU.
or maybe unlike you?
**
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Deep and real; mystical but raw. you are doing really well with your observations and expressions. Though i have five books published, the way you write is way beyond me. Very raw. Great going. There is an error. The sentence where you have written (the Sun says) ” I is not getting up…” I assume you meant I am…”
But fantastic stuff.
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