Lovers Poem by Thomas Kellar


in these late breaking days

rebellion has become

the most ragged of fashion statements

the banality of it symbolized

by certain

hairstyles, cigarettes, rock bands, automobiles

a saltpeter-fueled revolution

defiance institutionalized

from our home entertainment centers

we see, we hear,

the latest corporate anti-heroes

as they sun themselves

along the banks of the mainstream

mega stars

idolized by thundering herds

spilling forth

from the nearest shopping mall

ask me and I”ll tell you

lovers with a cause

are the real rebels

the spiritual benefactors,

the wounded heroes,

the mystics eternally misunderstood

with fine grit paper

working against the grain

hands slivered and bleeding

creating hidden beauty

in time

through their labor

floating free-form

defying the gravity

of power, greed, envy”¦


born anew

these spirit artists become suspect

a kind of threat to social order

to be burned at a stake

nailed to a cross

assassinated by sniper fire

getting them out of the way

we make martyrs of them

coz the dead don”t scare us

the way living flesh and bone does

it”s easier to glorify a touched up past

than face a future

we seem hell-bent on desecrating

one by one

all are shot down

“¦and when the fields where the wildflowers grow

have been bulldozed and destroyed

then spring is gone

and what”s left

is a sort of somber confusion

as hard to define

as that 4 letter word

we so readily cut and paste

to fit our purpose