Iconoclast

When someone has made a mission of hurting you while no one's looking it forces you to confront or retreat from your social community, it gives you time to think. It gives you time to observe. You come to realizations. You come to the realization that your job as a child is to go along with your own enslavement. Then, as a parent, to break your child for the state. So that your children, in their turn, accept the artificially imposed, toll-booth existence that you yourself were required to internalize in order to enrich the elite group of owners that have conquered the known world. At that point, you either do what you can to mitigate that realization or you fall under the weight of knowing. Creativity is the act of surviving the Knowing.

If my thoughts were words

clinging as dryer sheets from

my electrically static cardigan

passersby would avert their eyes

and quickly cross the street.

Thoughts that raw have been known

to shatter civilizations.

They are not for public consumption.

They are not even for private consumption.

These thoughts are meant to consume,

not be consumed.

If released, new civilizations

would have to rise

just to find a fitting place

to house them.

Hence, my ever-present, mask-like smile.

© 2017 Sharee Anne Gorman

(annienomad-cyberpoet)