'We are no fragile poets, ' he said <br />sipping panaceas; <br />no, <br />we bleed in these bloody times.' <br /> <br />Our descriptors screech- <br />show calluses. <br /> <br />Our gerunds <br />are heavy-laden, <br />participled <br />and unrelieved. <br /> <br />In our time <br />we've had sex <br />with the dark and delicious. <br />Our tiny lusts are autographed <br />on our eyelids. <br /> <br />We have ridden the night bull <br />and kissed cold similes <br />licked razor blades, <br />cut ourselves. <br /> <br />Our body linings <br />have slipped to edges- <br />scabs removed- <br />our scars exposed. <br /> <br />Our loves have been tattooed <br />on our foreheads and we consume <br />what we love best. <br /> <br />We've known villainous reprieves- <br />raw extremes. <br /> <br />We've seen our low expectations <br />sucked dry; <br />our joyless roses decline to bloom; <br />we have seen steeled excusings, <br />blatant excrescences <br />resent me's, <br />poxed regrets, <br />vampire ideologies, <br />deeply cutting debaucheries <br />and Unspeakeries. <br /> <br />We've had <br />our wisdom wrung <br />from emotion's sponge; <br /> <br />our oasises <br />have been carved from pulp existence- <br />our meanings extracted <br />from Carpathian realities. <br /> <br />We are no fragile poets then <br />opining on slippery metaphysical surfaces. <br /> <br />We are similes' survivors- <br />denizens of the electron brainscape; <br />voices winnowing; <br />down into the strangled world; <br />our task is, nonetheless <br />to re-dream all things. <br />Our callouses grant us the mettle, <br />our hearts show the way <br />our determination is un-sunk. <br /> <br />We must be the Rough Poets <br />eyeball to eye ball <br />with both Dream and Reality; <br />we must brandish <br />the seemly <br />against the unseemly <br />and remain true to Poetries.<br /><br />Lonnie Hicks<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/gerunds/
