Unlocked, loaded, let your words flame papercandle-flame

set arson to thought-control, combust news.

Pyro-dissident: touch fire to their views

Reveal new topographies, mind-shaper.

Spark a candle – a single thin taper.

Subvert what worldlings dare not refuse.

The herd will always revile or accuse;

but contours alter for you, landscaper –

so chastise darkness. Proclaim what is right.

(When their stable burns down due to your light

or smoldering, implodes, it’s not your fault.)

If the status quo will not acquiesce

then muster another frontal assault.

There’s no shame in a flame; just incandesce…

You know if you are right. If not, back down.

Every single
mistake of mine,
even the recurring ones,
patiently you edit within
and read as if it's fine,
nothing has ever gone wrong.

see!
what your love
incomparable
has to me done,
my poor, darling!

in my writing, they see
the grammar fully muddled,
so many words I spell wrong.

I see this, only when
others, bitterly, loudly complain
gentle soul, your'e forgiving,
but the world isn't,vengeful it seems,
don't you see the predators, prowling?

Why don't you consider the truth,
I am imperfect, want to be corrected
why not help me change,
tell me where I go wrong, urge
I'll certainly adore you more for that.

why does
my mother assume
when i write in first person,
the words on the
page
automatically
make up
a biography.

in this case,
however,
she probably should assume.