Idyllic

Poems and prose comparative to old never seem to to hold the same weight.
Talking of love and lust and greed.
It all seemed so new then, but wanting it now would be akin to long walks on the beach.

Everybody loves those.
Everybody does those.

We want to be unique.  We want to be pure.
We want to feel the feelings and through them be the cure.

How are we poets now?
Everyone has their words.

How are we poets now?
Everyone is so sure.

There is no understanding of the plight of woman or man.
We don’t use words the way we used to, now it’s video that holds our hand.
Yet the words written, or typed, hold strength and power still.
These words are burning fire to show the oppressed’s will.

It will come from bordered lands with fences high and sharp.
It will come from wombs and bills that voices will never cease

and never stop

The people will feel the passion through the words and never let up.
The people will be the philosophers and poets.
The people will be the people again.
Poets will be poets
and we will feel the words once more.

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