To A Young Political Activist - Poem by kyle foley
ο ι μ ε ν ι π π η ω ν σ τ ρ ο τ ο ν
ο ι δ ε π ε σ δ ω ν
ο ι δ ε ν α ω ν φ α ι ς ε ρ ι γ α ν μ ε λ α ι ν α ν
ε μ μ ε ν α ι κ α λ λ ι σ τ ο ν
ε γ ω δ ε κ η ν ο τ τ ι ς τ ι ς ε ρ α τ α ι
some say the most beautiful thing
upon the black earth is cavalry,
others that it is soldiers,
sill others navies,
but i say that it is love.
- Sappho, fragment 16
all your political
activities will lead to naught, dylan,
unless love informs you.
it is love that led mohatma ghandi
two hundred thirty miles to the sea to march
so as the ghastlo-oppressive salt-laws of the british to protest,
and their hate-bitter regime to confront.
it was love that inspired doctor king
thistled days in the birmingham jail to spend,
there languishing, there in furnace,
all for the sake of his people’s rights,
and their delecto-taste splendido of freedom.
it was love for the mexicans
that motivated thoreau civil disobedience
to commit, the state’s wrath-mind to rebuke,
always love guiding him, nourishing him,
always love the altar and the halo.
and it was love that led mother theresa
to leave her isolated convent
and plunge into the very arms of the poor,
their needs minding, bandaging, not hers,
their plight mitigating, limiting, not hers.
i of course applaud your efforts
frederick demilitirized to render,
ourselves the biological-weapons
capital of the world to discontinue,
my soul effuses falcon-flight
when i see you castigate the world-bank,
and throw slime-foam at their jails,
my being convulses in spasmo-joy
when i see you reading the iww web-site,
your concern on the working-man focused,
your mind on their grind and their sweat fixed.
yet at the same time i also
know that the road to soul-kill
is layered in dreams of philanthrophy,
and primrosed with visions of altruism.
for this reason, dylan, it is absolutely essential
that love must permeate all of your actions in joy-gold,
and wash each part of your being in psych-splendor.
love must be for you
what a debate interview with bill o’reilly is for noam chomsky,
what the victory of the presidency is to dennis kucinich,
what a stateless society is to emma goldman,
what laura de sade of carpentras was to francesco petrarcha,
what beatrice portinari was to dante allighieri,
in short, nothing less than that essence
that completely unifies the soul in flourish,
all of one senses in haloesque accord,
their whole being pulsing and flowing with felicia,
a bright jasmo-dolphin of brilliance
arising from the sea in unalloyed triumpho.
just as sappho said it two thousand
seven hundred years ago so must it be said again:
some say there is nothing more magno-blitheful,
nothing more rapt in fire-trance,
nothing more illuminating of awe-shine
than armies marching, conquering,
armed ships sailing in conquest,
swords and shields prominent and large,
others say that it is isaac newton absorbed
to the point of insanity in scientific research,
his seamless concentration kidnapped,
inquiry, investigation and experimentation devouring him,
himself for the laws of nature lusting,
still others say it is marcel proust,
his mind roaming into disparate
and unrelated fields, his curiosity
meeting no hindrance, no hurdle,
his joy for interpersonal analysis unparalleled,
his ability life to explore all-consuming,
these of course are certainly
bright profusions of the great manifest,
and wild symphonies of searing delecto,
but i say that the most beautiful thing
upon this bewildering earth
is when love permeates
and pervades your every move,
love your omni-radiant beacon,
love your pan-enlightening torch,
love your guide, love your agent.
this then is my great hope for you, dylan,
that your every political decision,
that your every whim and caprice,
that all your dreams, all your aspirations
will all be decided within the context of love.
thus i encourage you to persevere
in your political endeavors.
continue poverty’s wrangle to combat,
persist in your confrontation
with the maul of the oil-man,
the hate-strike of the sloth-merchant,
uplift those who are walmarted,
those auschwitzed by napalm,
free those slave-children in china working,
liberate those defenseless mind-cripples
who are to the electric-chair destined,
but only do this if and only if
love pervades all your estuaries,
all your harbors, all your mountains,
do this if and only if
the rainbow of love abounds in your valley,
and glowphoriates in your temple.
Comments about To A Young Political Activist by kyle foley
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You