Poetry is a form of dissent
It’s obstinate
Battle cries from the awkward squad
It’s alternative independent thought
It can never be mainstream
It doesnt flow down the main street
It is a walk on the wild side
It’s incredibly fucking valuable
For those reasons and more
You gotta be something of a rebel
An outsider
A brave soul
To play around with words
Come up with your own take
On your own life and this crazy world
Put your own spin on it
Us poets spin like centrifuges
The words flying out of our mouths
Until they stick in someone’s ear
Or vanish unheard into the night
What kind of world
Are we living in
We can make love
We can make war
Different types of connection
Tenderness or violence
A choice made
By human hearts
Tenderness sooths
Violence wounds
Most of us know both
We reach for words
In the air and soil around us
Put them together
Gather here to speak them
We may be mad or bad or sad or glad
But we gather together
We want to communicate something
Speaking our minds
Turning fabricating shaping
Thoughts into spoken words
Here at the Poetika factory
1 Comment
If I had three wishes, what would they be?
A fortune, my sweetheart, a place by the sea.
Then what in my life would be left to achieve?
To lose them again and perpetually grieve…
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