Bohemian rebel rhymesters,
Revolutionary wordsmiths,
Who hold shiny truth filled mirrors
That reflect real and imagined
Worlds, ideas, remembered futures,
Forgotten unlived histories,
Desired justice in the now,
These are the chroniclers of dreams,
The uncloakers of mystery,
Who can see more than what life seems
The metaphorical jugglers
Of iambs, meters, heart felt rhymes
Joyous one minute, sad the next
Able to tell it like it is
In myriad forms day by day.
Cry freedom for those who cannot stop,
Who automatically express
Their extradimensional truth
To power each time they write words,
Rant multiverses in the street,
These are the ones we need to meet,
Seers who understand pain and love,
Pull snarky scales from screen filled eyes.
Forget leaders, bring on Poets.
Harry Rogers In the Yellow Room, 22nd November 2020
harri seeing red 