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Art

They Don’t Come Easily!

i don’t find these days

that poems come easily. 

they’re no longer

at my beck and call.

these days, if i want one,

it’s as though, like my arthritic hands, battling the last squeeze

of toothpaste, my mind squeezes out a little word or two, some syntax.

the world is full of silences

those beats that save musicians

and frame sound.

I don’t find these days

that poems come easily.

they’re no longer 

at my beck and call.

these days, if i want one,

i get a slogan:

Water is life!

Alive, they took them! Alive, we want them!

Keep dividing, we will keep multiplying!

Not one less!

No justice, no peace!

This is what democracy looks like!

I don’t find these days

that poems come easily

they’re no longer

at my beck and call.

They’ve taken on their own lives,

picked up stones and chalk, 

made glue from flour and water, 

stayed up late with sharpies and spray cans, 

stolen paper from work, 

they’ve taken to the streets and alleys,

emblazoned themselves like wildfires 

on the skins of protestors,

started screeching like rape whistles,

burning like pepper spray and tear gas.

Peeking out behind the isolation curtains

of the headlines. 

There is no hiding from these poems!

They have minds of their own!

They just don’t come when called.

By Red Balloon

I am a chronically ill queer artist and writer. I have a number of degrees in higher education and have spent most of my life interested and active in social movements against racism, militarism, misogyny and homophobia. Over the course of my life, I have worked in the world of alternate news, translation, law, teaching, and with progressive cultures, music, poetry, performers, and artists. I speak and understand a few languages and plan to share media in them on this blog. I am a poetry, art, music, and nature lover with an especial fondness for cats!

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