never hang a poet.

Jul 25, 2008 - 08:26 AM PST

loose this noose
from around my neck.
i want to speak
to keep my seeds growing.

bestow the words of all
human history assuring that
the mystery of expression
will be solved from one poet's

mouth to an audience of sunflower
seeds planted into their dirt seats.
mi voz, de la gente
y revolucion.

dialog and interaction,
the water and sunshine
nourish deep and when i'm done
we'll sprout and flourish

bright yellow petals for all
outside this auditorium to
see.

FCC, won't you loose the noose
from my wrists. i can see the
pen with my eyes but why
can't i grasp?

i know in the past i've
wrote lyrics for those
you've conspired against,
shot with fire hoses through fence,

fired shots ringing out through
stadiums of hopeful hearts.
in this modern day, us general
public have learned from, even from few souls; forgave.

so why do you say, "we're
just trying to save you from yourself."
cause i know for a fact
this won't benefit my health.

so i'll remove these binds
with my teeth. then write
with a touch of god
translating through the tip of my pen.

proud songs, sad songs,
mad songs, hell even bad songs.
as long as each letter and
each word is written with conviction,

as if a criminal guilty of fortune
flips the script and condemns the
judge of wrong doing, suing under
class action suite pursuant against

the federal government
on behalf of all incarcerated through
lies and trickery.

stop that tickles! airlines, homeland
security, and BP.
please loose this noose
from my feet and wallet.

i want to travel,
how about you? your
planes fly to destinations
almost thirty percent empty.

can i just pay for gas,
how about that?
ill even renew your tar
mat, what do yah say?

although my spirit can
fly high in the sky,
my body needs some assistance but
your insistance to charge more

of my finances without even
a kiss nor romance. even stationary
stance on an airplane will cost
a pretty penny.

so what is a poet
to do besides staring at what
others have experienced via
youtube or flicker?

days have faded away of
hiding in the cargo bin when
even contortionists and the slimmest
of slim can't fit restriction of the normal airline seat.

so i've made a promise
to myself to grow wings and rise.
sacrifice luxury and comfort for
necessity so my wallet can afford your ticket

for this poet's pen needs
to run through the thicket of fields in Iceland.
breath the soft salted seas from
the cold watered shores of Ireland.

climb guided by Sherpas on the
Himalayas and dance alongside
the Bollywood stars of India. celebrate the
new year twice a year in China

and Japan while playing the deep
bass melodies of a diggerydoo
with the aboringee of Austrailia.
on this trail tracked through the sky

i will break any tie, noose,
or bow. for my weapons are kept
low but pack the force of heavy
hitting artillery.

i will keep my pen in a holster,
parchment in shirt pocket,
and a switchblade sharp on both
edges brandishing the name inspiration

in case twine, once again, become
too tight, constricting my right to vocalization. for a poet's goal is
always in sight. on constant alert
of nooses trying to

throw the course askew.
we few poets must
experience and express.
with so many nooses

hanging like limestone
lurking in dark cavern, impending danger.
poets shine the light, for audience to
duck, dodge, and arrive safe to your next affirmation.