"you can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming"
-pablo neruda.
when your heart was my address
and blew bubbles of ultraviolet
onto the darkest side of the moon.
weaving whimsical webs of bookish delight,
twirling through titanic orbs of newly colonized
academic landscapes, knowledge interaction
was as natural as a pair of love-bees
sharing that rare bit of honey seized
from the narrowest confines of towering trees.
two intrepid textplorers, we would never fail
to discover that leather-bound promised land,
after tossing out the rehashed quicksand
of pervasive anti-scholar free-market banality.
we would chart, inevitably,
that intellectual utopia where the slim whims
of crusty philistine reactionaries did not rule
with sinister pinochet-like efficiency
-of course, successfully.
i would map out my densest, deepest, dust-covered dreams
on the spectrum of your angelic bosom.
your suburban gioconda smile
would track me home on glass-shattered nights,
as I stumbled, restless, beneath smirking streetlights,
the constellations above picking endless fights
over which one could claim you
as its own.
laying together under an arena of cool stars,
the moonlight massaging our skin like some
cosmic chiropractor, we would whisper
a million and one meaningful profound messages
to be placed in a million and one
meaningful and ordinary bottles
to be delivered to a million and one
randomly familiar far-flung locales.
the birds above would chirp an aerial aria,
with a legion of crickets as their chamber orchestra,
as we flushed our endless pain and frustration
down the colossal commode
at the first bend in the road.
we would buy heartbreak a one-way ticket
to a distant galaxy and send loss packing
like that bothersome mother-in law
one would rather not again see
-of course, successfully.
our love was the ocean's purr,
soft, timeless, nourishing,
echoing that first primordial stir
of groping, innocent, cavepeople
intimacy, our two warring souls
linked across the siegfried line
of determined desire, us discovering
an essential unity
in the appeal of revolt's necessity.
we would bare the teeth of our conscience
to a lost and often unsuspecting world
of easily anesthetized automatons
and vulturistic soul-crushing vampires.
two anarchist canines struggling to break
a tight capitalist leash, ignoring the utopian fantasy
of going off the grid and tuning it all out
we would struggle, collaborate, face tear gas
and pour water on the embers of doubt.
but the revolution is hardly complete
the revolution has only just begun
for the oppressed, impoverished, and discarded
the world is waiting to be won
for the oppressed, impoverished, and discarded
the world will surely be won.
i was that lover
i was that fighter
i was that freedom-fighting lover
that lover fighting for freedom
how could you ever need another
when would you want another
why should you have another
but now it is over, and like
a just put-out fire, i feel
smothered, depleted, ensnared
by a gnawing need to discover
what could have been
if things were better
if our lives were better
if other people were better
if they were wise and not just clever
if they were not pre-programmed
to do everything by the letter
of a fraudulent ideology;
if they actually recognized
that they too were owed an apology
by the masters of distracting technology;
if they actually believed
they were being shackled
by the divisive machinations
of an utterly skewed psychology;
if they could stop being
the eternal servants of a suicidal system
that has locked them into a vicious cycle
of the most profound sadness and economic calamity,
aimless despair and degrading poverty,
the whole planet made into a scorched and barren entity
and sustainability becomes an endangered commodity.
but the demons cannot take away
our deep-seated integrity,
they will never take away
our integrity
for we the people will inherit the earth.
that's right, we the people
will inherit the earth.
we the people
are now unified and ready.
so, without further ado,
it's time to reverse human history
-of course, successfully.
