I look at other people’s new-formed poems
And sink into despair. They detail fights
‘Twixt narrow arteries and veins—syndromes
Of narcissistic shadow and delight.
What’s worse, they focus on crass trivia—
Their twittered rage, affections, lust, and hate—
Rapt desire, widened eyes, and viscera—
All penned behind an ego’s bolted gate.
I seek real rage, not sniveling! The glare
Of words that blare, thunder, strike, launch crusades—
That clear our sense, reveal a world laid bare:
New maps of human history displayed.
Break out of ego-jail, solipsism—
Reflect the antic world’s astounding prism!
What better use for rhyming metered verse—
Rich metaphors enhancing spirit, worth?
(6/9/12)