Letter from the Troposphere

Dear You,
I was trying to be funny
though I was obviously not
because you were not laughing
and I wanted to cry…

…but instead I ran
and I slipped on the wet grass;
I fell on my ass,
but you thought it was thunder,
so you hid as I lay out
under the stars all night.
a poet wounded, a Darkling affright,
while drunk sons and proud johnnies
hung quiet upon my coattails.

I took flight, burned bright,
and we plundered through the chem-trails.

Down below us, beneath the cloud,
upon a Hill in the flat lands,
sat a house that had seen better days.

Is this a dream? Is this me?

The House was White, festooned in Pride;
A man lived there, and he tried, he tried;
he spoke of morality and they cowered;
he mentioned the Constitution and they booed;
We thought anyone We vowed can could save the planet
but We were wrong, and We were rude, and We stewed.

The drunk sons and the proud johnnies quivered
…and I soothed them; I soothed,
Don’t fret, not yet – just ride.
Everything is fine up here
in the troposphere.

But down there, men speak of war
as dignified, as justified,
they fight with pride,
but there is no dignity in death
for those who find happiness
in a warm gun,
and it is easy to imagine
a future that does not exist
when one is having fun.

We of all people should have known;
known better than to trust him;
to trust us; to trust We; to trust me.
I mean, who knows me better than We?

Floundering in a puddle of ignorance,
We allowed our apathy to kill Her,
“Her” being Liberty, “Her” being peace.

War is unceasing.

We choked Her to death, We cut Her to pieces
with our hate and our fear
to let anyone near; to love anyone in vain.

We studied for years,
and for what?
What is the culmination of years of study?
Shakespeare was a liberal progressive;
King James was a queer;
the dead are not scary
the living are weird,
conservatives live a bubble,
and if you live in a bubble,
you are living a lie.

Ask any question you wish
but don’t ever ask why
health insurance is not healthcare
or why everybody dies…

We the People have spoken,
but We never took time to think
that it was all joke, it was all on us,
now We all stink…

and I wanted to cry…
because you were not laughing
though I was obviously not.
I was trying to be funny,
Dear You, Dear You.

I was trying to be funny,
Dear You.

© 2017 The Poet Darkling

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Published by: The Poet Darkling

The Poet Darkling is an award-winning poet, lyricist, author, editor, and freelance writer. She is currently working on her fifth poetry and monologue anthology, as well as her memoirs. In 2013, The Poet Darkling had the distinct honor of writing an introduction and closing poem for the short story anthology, “Broken Spokes along the Way,” by author Vance R. Farrell. She is also an esteemed member of several writer’s groups, including Writers-Network, and All Poetry, and was featured in the All Poetry anthology “Rewrite Sunlight” in 2017. Born in Chicago, Illinois, The Poet Darkling currently resides in Northeast Tennessee with her family, her pet black widow spider (whom she calls “Walter”), her imaginary muse (whom she hasn’t named), and her many diverse personalities. Since her childhood, The Poet Darkling has survived all manner of physical and sexual abuse, as well as mental illness, drug addiction, and long-term homelessness, and her poetry reflects this. With a steady voice, diverse subject matter, and the singular intent of helping others not only survive the darkness, but thrive there. The Poet Darkling appeals to a wide range of readers. She speaks for the traumatized soldier, the weary mother, the confused teen, the abandoned senior, the disenfranchised minority, the serial killer, and anyone who has suffered heartbreak, addiction, abuse, mental illness, and even the sting of death – and all in perfect rhyme and meter…or not. Following her own doctrine of “Live first; learn later,” The Poet Darkling is currently working on her M.A. in Creative Writing/English, with a concentration in Poetry at Southern New Hampshire University, where she also earned her B.A. in Creative Writing, with a concentration in Poetry and a minor in Professional Writing, graduating summa cum laude in 2017. The Poet Darkling is proud to be a member of the Sigma Tau Delta (Alpha Pi Psi) and Alpha Sigma Lambda (Sigma Psi) honor societies. When she is not writing, or plotting her bid for Poet Laureate of the United States, The Poet enjoys talking to herself, wandering around aimlessly and poking dead critters with sticks.

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