I long for a Language…

A poem about Romance, Passion, Godly things, and Desires

Photo by mysondanube/iStockphoto

I long for a language—
That has escaped the sickles and swords of e-d-i-t-o-r-s—
Words that tumble onto a trampoline page—
With the glory of being alive.

I long for a language—
Born of resplendent Romance—
Not pseudo fact-checked shit pellet soundbites—
But ARIAS of the soul.

I long for a language
That introduces your Heart—
Your deepest, sweaty contemplation—
A warm winter pullover of poetry and prose.

I long for a language
That is Bespoke. Yes, Godly.
Not the suffocating groupthink
Like a vase of beautiful, dead, cut roses.

I long for a language—
The kind that comes from drunken Lovesick Men
Whose desires have wrung out every form of equanimity—
Because they scream from within.

I long for a language of yesteryear—
When language mattered—
Unpoliticked—chosen, but not crafty—unwillfully wise—not partisan,
But blissfully and tragically alone.