A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years. Try the RANDOM button to sample the sometimes surprising breadth of quality (and in several Novembers, breathtaking quantity as well), or click the "ANY GOOD" label* for those poems labeled with it. On any poem, old or new, feel free to offer your remarkable insight or critical acumen.

*I haven't yet revisited many pockets and stretches of time to appraise and label the "any goods," so some are missing. Please feel free to point out omissions, or - especially - erroneous inclusions, in comments.

but aren't they all random?

Friday, January 11, 2013

bravado

I wish all poets
- all of what's left of poets,
at this point and planet -
could take the lesson from it,
though. Yes, in life - in walk,
in drink - belligerence and machismo,
braggadocio,
are ugly, escalatory, and a weak,
wuss-ass excuse

to pick fights with people
on no such good grounds as: pride
in a work one has made. Or
in one's voice
- in craft,
in competence,
in celebration of excellence,
strength, the ability
to cut loose on - - - the universe,
man!
In life,
in general, yeah, damn - pride,
and cutting others down from competitive basis is...
bull shit.

Base, mean stuff.

But I wish
all those cowering today
in the preciousness of their art -
all those secretly mighty, if only cut loose
- could learn the humility,
the simplicity, the truth
of what a joy it is
to run the dozens down on a fellow
master of ceremony! - as part of the form!
The accepted norm. Business!
not personal
- prizefighters be not proud, but
humble, huh? Damn yup! As you give the gift
of a thorough beat-down. And celebrate one's
crosses, straights and uppercuts! as one jabs
with all the celebratory self love, one has.
Love carried out. Multiplied to the power

of every one

in the crowd, in a battle where only one's art
wins - no doubt: no fights, beefs, or similar
irrelevancies allowed, because man - THIS
is the kind of proud we here braves need. Humanity's
poised on the worst warpath ever, if
we can't fill our lungs to shout triumphant
about something more personal than creed,
then we might as well concede the race,
scalp ourselves and plant the blood
and follicles, because nuclear winter
is on the immediate five-day forecast,
geologically speaking, if India and Pakistan can't
nominate some champions
to fight for them
fast - and on the mic.

We need art,
confrontation - not physical domination,
not this pissant substitute
penis-length comparison
- to determine if humanity is in fact
ever going to graduate,
to be capable of culture,
diversity, conflict in mutual benefit
and liberty - not as one race! one
creed, one color, one persuasion - not even
as one species

- FUCK BIOLOGIES !!!! -

one nation.

Can we please?

Because pride.
Loud, brash, arrogant pride
- in art; in one's self, in
the absolute acceptance of
one's status as Creator

co-equal with the universe - this
is the only way to be.

I don't know how
to get there. But if we can get,
that will be the way to be, the only way. To be
free.

It's well worth the sacrifice
of forcing one's self to accept the necessity,
to allow bravado. As distasteful,
as wrong as it - really,
truly is. Bravado. As if
some people are better. At
things.

Bravado.

Pardon me,
while I throw
up a bit in my mouth,
just so I have a bit
of fire to spit out
on the principle
of it. Bravado.

Ick.

But we need it.

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