Planet Gentry

19. hunters-race-408744-unsplash

Planet Gentry


Your language

Is locked tighter than a filing cabinet

Full of documents with many clauses

Strict and tidy conversations with important pauses

Where the feelings ought to be

You are the king of the letter C, for contract

For contractions that do not lead to birth or life

For concepts

That you wield with the edges of a knife-like wit

That sits in the safeness of your words

Like baskets of snakes in a cobra pit


Your commas and colons

Your periods and apostrophes

Are the lost cousins of other people’s catastrophes

You measure their losses with your usurious gain

Imprisoned in jargon

And held in word hospitals for the insane


There is no rhyming word for mutual

You should not let it cross your lips

You are a captain of industry

And of dark pirate ships

That sink the horizon of the future

And drown the race in greed

And well-articulated arguments

That no one can erase or concede


You are viciously polite

Commanding surrender

With your terms of agreement

You are the smiling pretender

Stealing what was never yours to take

You are the warden of our silences

You are the violent offender

With no stakes but your own


And one day

When the earth shakes hard enough in her distress

You’ll be alone to confess to your maker

You were a taker


By Julie Flanders

Photo by Hunters Race






About octoberprojectmusic

Julie Flanders Marina Belica Emil Adler
This entry was posted in October Project, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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