The Cheerful Challenge Of Strange Little Poems
The Cheerful Challenge Of Strange Little Poems

Saturday • January 13th 2024 • 10:55:28 pm

The Cheerful Challenge Of Strange Little Poems

Saturday • January 13th 2024 • 10:55:28 pm

Never have I regretted anything more, than writing a poem only I can adore

  • Abraham Sweet Cheery Chipper Cheeks Lincoln

I don’t know anything about aging, other than that it is a privilege denied to many.

But I do know about growing up, because of my bullies, and coming to America.

I know that growing up and aging, are separate things.

It is possible to be an old child, and it is possible to become an old teenager.

It will also be tragic, but it will be true.

Let me tell you something, about poetry.

You will regret not having written and read, every one of the poems in you.

You got to record them, and blast them in the ears of strangers.

Write your poems, and share them.

If you fail, the elder you will see that as a tragedy.

Nobody knows what poetry is, especially the poets.

I rhymed duce and goose yesterday, and spend the day somewhat ashamed.

But I couldn't tell you why, you are darned if you do rhyme.

And darned, if you don’t, I guEeeSs…

Some part of me sees poetry as an anchor, another as a way not to have a reputation.

By bullies taught me, a good reputation, is the first thing they will burn.

But that is a good thing, I dance country, and western, at the gym.

I shuffle dance, mastering the backwards shuffle right now.

And it just turned out, that dance is the only way to lose wight.

It is good on your knees, the weather never gets cranky.

And you got empty hands, for dumbbells that will give you frigtening might.

By being serious, you deny your self things.

One bully, that I only met one time.

Told me, that my laughter was ugly.

By denying ourselves being silly, we are kind of bullying ourselves out of laughter.

No one should ever regret laughter, nor be negative towards someone laughing.

The greatest utility, that we discover here.

Is making our elder selves weep, helping them remember what made us laugh.

But it does not end here, Socrates teachers that knowledge is a virtue.

To really know ourselves, we must push on all the fronts.

Comedy of Animal Poetry, tragedy of broken schools of indoctrination.

We have to learn the gooey of painting, and the crystalline of programming.

The mystery of cohesion between piano and violin, and the power a bass drum symphony orchestra.

And the revelations, of pursuit of any and all wisdom.

Where Socrates pushes us to let go, of what we think we know, which is often nothing.

And take to, the love of wisdom alone, separate from indoctrination.

Poetry, is an act of rebellion, is an an unknown path forward.

Dictated precisely, by the most daring combinations of words.

It is not; only the comedy, that must gallop forward.

But rather, serve by subtle analogy, as an example.

To how audaciously and rebelliously, all out other pursuits can ponce forth.

Do you see? If all you’ll ever share, are the smart things.

You will neither remember the sound of your youthful laughter, nor will anybody ever know who you really were.

Search the internet, for a rhyming dictionary.

Figure out what the nearest furry or feathered, or bold, or angry, creature near you is…

Say something lovely, and see if you can ride the chains rhymes long enough.

To make you laugh, out loud.

If there is one thing we can be sure of poetry, it is that it exists in large part to make people laugh.

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