poetry, verse

A poetic manifesto of sorts

I foresee a coming earthquake

In verse, the death of diffidence:

The driver will no more dispense

too little fuel, too much brake


And crawl along the roads of sense

Like someone stoned. A poet in fear

The audience may find him clear

Instead of distant, dark and dense.


Politeness! Fuck it, let’s appear

To give a damn about the mind

And heart and world at least. Go find

Your lust and love: seek far and near.


And shout out loud to humankind

Your pain and joy, defy all fake

Humility. We will not make

Our voices small or too refined.


The time has passed to be too tame

To take the stage and to declaim.


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