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.

but aren't they all random?

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

buzz buzz buzz

systemic, oppression, institutionalized,
dialogue, I actually dig
a lot of those words you know, but I try
to use them in a way to enhance
or advance the dialectic, break
the enchantment and befuddlement that come
from taking markers of meaning
and flattening them to mere tokens of seeming -
I like to seize upon buzzwords and platitudes,
pull them away if I can from the way they've been overused
and underutilized, and recall them to their originally
underlying truths and attitudes,
which have still their full weight,
gravity and altitude, and hang poised.

All words and terms that held truths originally
retain them still - those truths, full strength

Even if misuse has shellacked it under glazed layers
for the dazed purveyors of so-say-all-of-us, truth,
under all, is not bent.

Trust in truth still. after all

Its power may lie dormant,
but only from being unexamined

Truths remain ever a threat to burst free
wild and angry
like a swarm of hornets, and wreck
havoc's flailing attempts to dismantle sanity
- truth sits patiently waiting to go mad,
get angry, open up a can
of epiphany upon calamity,
oppose wanton chaos in its mean,
grubby bid to break down what reason
we've been able to ordain in the universe,
for ourselves. With good reason, to good purpose
and for good cause,
we talk.

Some of us skip stones across a wet surface
of water, get
as many slaps and splashes in
like points scored, before the words
we fling sink, worthless
to depths we don't care to plumb.
It's okay. Some of us congratulate
each other in code, "no more need be said
- password accepted and verified;
we are On The Same Side," without
even understanding what for. It's O.K.
Some of us explode. Some of us yawn, bored.
Some of us implore, plead, wrangle and
exhort, barely doing anything besides.

It's ok.
It's going
to be ok.

I try to understand,
but I don't. I can.
I believe I can. I hope.

I don't believe words have power, anyway
but meaning does.
Words are just envelope. We push it til' it breaks
sometimes, get papercuts and ruin the message
with traces of blood, "no more can I discuss
this painful topic!" Too bad.

You must.

"For it does not matter if there is a solution. Dialogue
must keep the channels active and open, a circuit of current
instances, examples, implications, a handful of recent
developments lie waiting, alongside the permanent ideals
and resolutions, alongside the belated a priori dismissal
of facts, old and embarrassed like elephants,
they never forget or go away but we can pretend,
can't we? Let's. Let us play

a game of strict association: I'll say,"

And you'll say back.

Buzz buzz buzz

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