This is a poem that K wrote last night.

Of all the poems that he has written that I've read , I consider this a favorite.

Thank you for letting me post it.:-)


To The Deaf, The Dumb, and The Doorstops


I now declare that I am a poet –
A boy learned enough but neither too well nor too little;
A man young enough but neither too cocky nor too sane.

I know just enough to take myself a-wandering
From treacherous seas to perilous mountains,
From budding buildings to hospitable wastelands,
From lubricious lakes to the infinite solitude of alleys,
From delighted train stations to ports rife with pleasures.

Yes, I have indeed seen a lot, most of which
I never wish to behold again had I the choice.
Oh, had I the choice!

I have seen rebels slither away from ideals
And dive into oblivion, with their arms and their beliefs
And holiday shoes and their combat cards
And napalm Sundays and frothing ears.
I have seen them sell their children
To the bell bottom market for a pound of hash
And a few shots of Andean raindrops.

I have seen soldiers chasing rebels, soldierly fists clenched –
Gripping tightly their medals of courage in the line for the race
To the topmost bunk in the innermost barracks
Of human achievement and decay.
I have seen them dress up in drag to please mistresses
Who ask for nothing less than all and nothing more
Than more, more, more.
Yes, I have seen their mansions and I have been dumbstruck –
Struck by the dumb waving from their balconies
Amidst a plethora of daisies and dandy lions.

I have seen singers more than I’ve heard them
And this I cannot comprehend too well.
What, I ask, has happened to the transistor?
Has the cat clawed on its own tongue?
What the radio blurts out, I cannot, for the life of me,
Even begin to describe. I fear garbage ink.

I have seen painters, their souls for sale and on sale
To the weasel king of museum magnates.
I have seen you – you know who you are –
And you have traded in honesty for fashion,
Integrity for approval, sincerity for denial.
I have seen you cry out for your self-imposed pain
And linger in bathtubs of delirium,
Misappropriating hues and textures
For the clapping of thunderous hands.

I have seen poets too – and some of them I despise
For their words blatantly echoing what they lack
And intentionally hiding what they own and owe.
I disapprove their demeanor in flaunting their ignorance,
Speaking in jargon they have feasted on with only their eyes,
Relaying second-hand truths, replaying themes long obscure,
With obdurate postures befitting not a servant of his time.
Listen, you ought to be who you are
Not who you think you ought to be.
I’d rather be who I don’t want to be any day
Than be in your elite circles.
That’s exactly how you go about your business anyway,
Going ‘round in circles.

I have seen my country sunk down – willingly –
Game show hosts at the helm, celebrities manning the oars,
Senators – torpedoes – zeroing in on the bull’s eye:
The palace seat in heat.
I have seen soldiers, poets, drunks, painters, rebels,
Magicians, gypsies, libertarians, orthodox puppets,
Priests, preachers, hippies, and what-nots
Floating in the wake, virulently wanting to climb aboard.

I have seen myself too – all that I have and lack –
And I have come to this: I am a poet.
I have harshness at my disposal –
A tongue on fire and insults set on dousing
Souls and hearts with gasoline, to lick them clean,
And render them into ashes.