Now that we are all connected
can we declare once and for all
and forever ever that
what works best for me
may not be right for everyone else?
And that the same is true of you (plural)
and all your beliefs (super plural)
That maybe you’re part exotic cactus
that grows only on the rocky coasts of Aruba
and I am half moss from a crooked alley in Brooklyn.
That maybe looking out at the ocean
terrifies me the same way that you
can’t seem to warm up to chain link fences.
What I’m saying is that we should
agree that our own private histories
written on earth as events,
and stored in ourselves as memories,
twisted and told and encoded
as proteins genetically,
have manifested in ways
that affect how we
take shit in.
Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2009. All rights reserved.
Request: If I provided a microphone wired to speakers the world over – speakers that automatically translated this piece into every language – could I *please* broadcast this globally?
‘Cause I know some folks who really need to hear a little bit of TRUTH.
Speak on, Brother.
Or they could read poetry and get there the long way (as if). Thank you for your support and feedback.
I Like this poem very much.