Never has this nation stood as tall
As the day after its great fall
But now?
So many years after we've risen?
Not in ages have we seen such division

Divided we fall
   and united we stand?
Have we somehow flipped
   the values of this land?
That terrible day
   mourning hand in hand
Has faded away
   to competing demands
   of Make Us Greats
   and Yes We Cans

Now we stand opposed
   diametrically divided
Wondering
   if ever again
   we'll stand
   happily united

two floor fans
perched side by side

one at full blast
******* in air
blowing it out
without a care
who's there
to receive

the other
half the height
black as night
silver blades silenced
unstirring
gazing into the distance
in solemn stillness
metallic meditation

three empty chairs around an empty table

sometimes filled with food
filled with people
filled with life

but now just ghosts
relics of the
(whatever came before
whatever comes after)

in the moment
nothing more than a waste of hard plastic
and glossy green paint
fossil fuels drawn from deep within the earth
so much life destroyed
so three ugly four-legged lifeless objects
can sit around a table
and share in the quiet nothingness

cat curled up asleep underneath
indifferent to the chairs' lack of conversation
indifferent to the fans' competing notions
of making the most of lifeless life
indifferent to everything
as only cats
and fans
and chairs
can be

What's it take
These days

To write a poem

That makes the world go mad
That brings the crowds to their feet
That spreads like wildfire
Through a dry winter forest

Is it those excessively long words?
The ostentatiously loquacious
Platitudinous ramblings
Of an insecure mind aspiring
To authentic intellect?

Is it perhaps...
     the "creativity"
               of      varied      spacing
  or...    could it be..... the lack
                              of capitalization
               the loathsome little letters
               screaming out
                         hey, look at us!
         ... or maybe it's
               the punctuation marks,
     littered, haphazardly
          through the text
                    (whether used correctly)
               or, theyre not?!
     despite worrds mispeled
          and a grammar might is broken
   can these gimmicks increase interest
        though miswritten or misspoken?

Is the trick alliteration
Whose bite brightly bids us
To center on the snappy sounds?
Although all along
     unvoiced underneath
Ideas idle in the isles
   (or perhaps the aisles)
Of the mind
To meld and craft and bind
Our thorough thoughts
And worthy words
Into lines
Which
Heard by herds
Raise the
                  Praise for which we
                  Privately, desperately
                  Pray

Maybe it's a magical mix
Of splendid in-your-head rhythm
Marvelous meter that perfectly clicks
Flowing smoothly without schism

Well-spaced stanzas
Well-used time
Well-crafted phrases
Well-thought-out rhymes

Well, maybe not...
     those gems are often ignored
     cast-aside, unread, even abhorred

Why?

Because the modern world
doesn't need your rules
your restrictions
your regulations
your misguided boundaries
your oppression
your antiquated ideas
   of "the right way"
   to write
   to speak
   to act
   to live
   to (fill in the blank)

No, what the modern world needs
is
Negation!
Contradiction!
Resistance!
Revolt!

And poetry whose words
Say the same thing
Repeat the same meaning
Echo the same lyrics
Rephrase the same thoughts
But in an ever-so-slightly
Different
Varied
Altered
Adjusted
Changed up way

Line
After line
Of synonyms
          over
               and
                    over
                         and
                              over
                                   again

-----

What's it take
These days

To not give in
To narcissism's spiral?

But more importantly:
What's it take

To make my poem go viral?

Playing with words is one of my gifts
Poetry, prose, through pen or the lips

Let me show you what happens
What goes on in this brain
As I introduce you to the art of Wordplay

They march in - then beat, tortured, stretched, and broken
Completely dissected before they're respoken
All meaning pulled out, fully extracted
Give a word no mercy - just straight up attack it
Roll it over, spin it around, toss it up, smash it down
Play with it - make it move, hold it still
Like a cat with its mouse just before the ****
And when the word no longer resembles itself
When it's suffered, collapsed, gone through hell
Give it love, offer grace
Let the word have some space
Place it back on the tongue and see how it tastes
Then the word, encouraged, will offer something new
Will compel your lips and your jaw, your whole mouth to move

Something fresh will come out, unexpected perhaps
Spurred by the word and the knocks and the taps
at the door to your mind -
Same word.
Redefined.

It still fits
But now it tells a new story
Try it again - it never gets boring!

What once was unseen, unknown, and unheard
Has now been revealed by this old-but-new word

"What should I make of this?" many inquire
My advice?
Play with words, not fire!