Thick Of Tongue Poem by Julia Luber

They Chose to not understand what Satire is or: IF
Logos to all material would end up not only simply too hard, but also too stiff.

And Chose to create zombies, as if being in adulation of them:
Deciding what is allowed to be said, and deciding what should be considered sin.

Not contemplating who in Flesh and Blood
Had been constricted in their acts.

Feeling thick of tongue, and body of thud-
and where the rule shudders and cracks.

Not examining how gravity functions through time-
In beg of a reaction, To undo that secret crime!

Of a love that promised Nothing to anyone else.
Which existed only for that one night.
Like nothing really lived nor nothing really felt.

As anything more than a monument for which it stood.

Only love-not creation, not identification, nor any specific work of clearly good.

So haul out the shackles and step up the muzzles.
Let words be drunk for their googles and guzzles.

Set up the sinkage for gravity's linkage to replace
The grimaces, the guffaws, and those awful looks on their face.

Oh, how sick in reflection and wrong in rejection and cruel in subjection.
Oh, how mean and how cruel and how wrong!