Poetry

Poetry is the only time it is acceptable
To run, to run-on-lines, run-on-rhymes,
Run from life, because divulging into problems
Without assonance is asking for it, the judgement

And false pretenses society demands, and in poetry,
Often nothing goes according to plan, emotions take
Over and you land yourself in a deep pit of bones and grit,
The only difference is, here, there are others who share in

This right and spin ladders from words so you don’t have to
Fight this alone, poems are the essence of community, of
Rebuilding torn apart philosophies, of questioning conformity
Of creating these atrocities to bond over and bind over flames

With poetry, ok is never simply ok, it comes with a story, one
You would never share out loud because these dark recesses
Would never make you proud but we take it apart and it is
Found in a new light, of appreciation for you and your plights,

Here, you may never feel alright because words are disguises and
We mind them with such tenderness no one could guess what’s
Truly hiding underneath, the seas are rough but with poetry there’s
Always a point of serenity, of acceptance, of enemies being forgotten

And replaced with an eerie calm, here, the only one who can damn you
Is yourself, so we plead, never put your pen back on that shelf where the
World teaches us to bundle our problems, like experiences are simply
phenomenal and should not be shared, don’t let them trick you

that nobody cares because with poetry, you can climb the tallest trees,
find solace in an imagined beach, with rocks and sea salted spray, here
you can pray in peace and believe for a little while that the earth is not
made of clay, and the rest of us, the poets at play, are waiting at the table

to decipher everything.

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