Thought is subversive and revolutionary, destructive and terrible, thought is merciless to privilege, established institutions, and comfortable habit. Thought looks into the pit of hell and is not afraid. Thought is great and swift and free, the light of the world, and the chief glory of [wo]man.~Bertrand Russell
The extroverts here only see the remnant
of the woman I once sewed to survive.
On my odyssey to awaken from the
societal spell, I borrow sanctuary.
And how it infuriates them as I mine
for salvation in the depths
of the mountains of disinformation
where they dwell in fear.
They worship the super villains
flocked by teams of press agents
and lawyers. This slowly waking
poet poking holes in the story
has no place or time. They cut
out articles on how to get a job
–trade away thought and
energy to make things the populace
will buy in the morning and
discard come nightfall. Holding
the model as a beacon, a siren song
luring me to the harness
with the promise of oats and hay,
someone benevolent to ride me.
I turn to the magnetic intelligence
what is present now
an embodied being
dreaming my self
awake, aware right here