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?

Toss myself out of bed
Peel myself off the floor
Drag myself out of the house
Push myself to the job I hate
Force myself to face the world
Command myself to not melt into a puddle that oozes through the pores of the couch cushions to become a useless incompetent waste of my own **** self

Demand more of myself
To keep myself myself

The sconce on the wall
for crackling torches left burning for a returning
resents the assumption of infinite patience.
She's attached to an old brick wall;
not by affection, but by habit
and tools of the trade of attachment.
Occasionally-replaced simple screws worked into the bracket.
The wall is as dusty to touch, as divisive
as a tome of records, of laws of old.
The sconce respects history-- wishes more would become antiquity.
Knowing every flame left ardently lit, eventually burns out.
While here she stays.

The air is lava.
And time is a slow death.
I'm tap dancing on the road
With icicles as my feet.
No, this is not running, this is swimming.
Swimming inside the eyeball
Of a celestial nightmare.
The house is a gas chamber
In the disguise of a bakery.
Who would have known
That empty little words
Can cause chest wall contusions.
****** is not quite the word I would use.
Because eventually we all
Drink our caramel lattes and
Break God's nose in the end.

Down in it.


This world is full of lying people.
Money rules their lives; their minds are so feeble.
Everyone cannot be trusted;
So called helpers leave you down in it.


If you remain positive, they will only steal everything
And leave you to resent your life.
I hope you like being down in it,
Because people are not nice.


If you attain anything, then everyone will demand their piece
And leave you down and out, left hating the thieves.
All your efforts they destroy.
Trust no man, woman, girl, or boy,
Because in the end they will no longer be a friend;
They are a taker.
They are taking away your money so they can spend.


Bit by bit, they are taking it
And in the end you will have not one thing.
You work hard so they don’t have to;
I hope you see a better view.


Maybe we could be like them?
Then again, let’s pretend,
That you are better morally.
Let’s pretend you can hear me,
Without needing to shout,
I disagree!


(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.