you cannot kill a poet by Bogdan Dragos

young people,

they think nobody has the
same thoughts as them
they take great pride in some made up

as if really nobody ever thought up
scenarios of themselves descending
some rope from some helicopter and
dropping in the middle of enemy forces and
starting to shoot around, all movie like ‘an shit
and killing all the bad guys while not
taking one bullet
One man army

or there’s those other thoughts
of being simply the greatest at some
sport and being admired and envied for it

also, the thoughts of sex in all its forms

the thoughts of mindless violence

of saving the day

of being somewhere else and doing something else

all kinds of thoughts
and all the minds who think them label them as original

but they’re not original

they’re every young person’s thoughts

and me,
I also have thoughts I consider original

I think of how it is to be old
pretty much every damn day
I think of me being old and dried up and weak
and waiting for death

it’s not a very pleasant thought
especially for someone in their twenties
but it’s my way of labeling my thoughts original

maybe in some wheel chair
with a nurse pushing me from behind no kids
no family
no fortune
no achievements
a life wasted
death watching from above

and myself looking up at it
Motherfucker, you think you got me
but little do you know that
while I was able, while I was more lively than
a rotting carrot
I defied you by ripping apart pieces of me
that will stick with the world
long after I’m gone

Oh, they might not be great pieces or even good ones
but behind they remain as you take me away

and all of them branded with my name
It’s through them that I am

and there’s nothing you can do about it

great, good or bad,
you cannot kill a poet
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8 comentarios sobre “you cannot kill a poet by Bogdan Dragos

  1. Very nice. I come from the school of thought that art represents the masses. It is more of a replication of its environment, it’s author, and the circumstances of its creation. And sometimes that can be unoriginal. But I certainly agree; as writers we are pasted for the sake of posterity. Nice poem.

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  2. I think being old happens well before you get dried up and weak. At least, that’s how I feel, goddammit! I appreciate your words as I look back on the poems I was writing in the 80s. I can see that they could be better. But they are of that time, of my time at that time. I knew what I wanted to say so I said it. It’s a great exercise to go back over one’s writing from the past. Reviving memories, reliving glories and failures. Oh, I wish I knew then what I know now! But where’s the fun in that!

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