Fahrenheit 451

 

the preliminaries are over. we’ve discussed the latest
best sellers, a trendy art house, a French film that you
had no interest in, but it happened to be chic at the time.
abruptly, the conversation ends.

in the silence, we gaze at each other briefly. our lips
touch, your mouth opens slightly at my urging, our
tongues engage in the lovers combat. as my hand is about
to cup your breast, it is deterred by the small barrier of your
own hand, and I allow you that victory, like a man without a
backbone, without a hunger.

are we afraid? fearful of being taken before a tribunal
of unblemished hearts, stripped and lashed,
for unlawful carnal knowledge…

we are prisoners of love in separate cells. the eyes in the
walls watch us, blinking codes to each other that only they
understand. the elders who rule would judge our simple affection
as the crime of uninhibited souls. the thought police would arrive and
break down the door, and soon after we would be nothing more than
rebellious memories…

in the heaven of a million stars, is there one star that
would afford us a haven, a blissful refuge?
do you know that star?
can you guide me there?

The day when the work was done
and dusted pavements spoke volumes
about the ashes of our alphabet
when the fire was mightier than the pen
as language and conversation died
to better cater for short attentions.
 
The day the music of letters died
killed by all too common consensus
of slaves to tablets and images
more come with emoji  
than overcome with emotion like I
whose written word was not outlawed.
 
Yet from that fire of ignorance
I salvaged an ember of intelligence
and fought fire with fire
to go on to preach fiery poetic rhetoric
and inspiring prose to the populace
that burns and flames only make stronger.
 
In the past I would have holed up with a book
cocooned in blissful ignorance by fantasy
only to wake up and smell the burning leaves
and make the itinerant information my reality
delivering hot topic bars of oration
akin to the past wordsmiths.
 
My words and others are the flames of fury
that will burn this idiotic corruption out
it will cleanse in fire that which generates ire
a guiding light burning bright as the north star
to cauterise this wound upon our species
into which new writing will be emblazoned.
 
I speak with fervour for the word
a message and story in this daftness
where kindle is king and smartphones bear no intelligence
and I enkindle in others this flame wreathed frenzy
its touch scorching scalding and scolding the illiterate
burning them as they burned the beloved literature.

No words allowed? No books to read?
How can my voice be heard?
This is an outrage! My thoughts suppressed?
How will I let the world know how I feel?
Oh God!  Emotions and feelings restrained within
Experiences and stories meant to be told
Recipes written in binders
Historical, ecclesiastical,  and traditional writings of old
No children's story book
Peter Pan and Captain Hook?
Ha! This is an outrage!
My world has collapsed, my imagination can not breed.

I lay in my bed and softly cry
I can not believe that my words on paper I can not bequeath
My heart beats fast
As the words come to me but I can not make them last
The anxiety,  panic even of no relief
How will I get it out? How will the story be told?
My pen wants to write, this is absurd!
The world needs to know that I exist
That I lived my life and to myself I stayed true.

Without a tongue to mother us
We have no shelter in mind or mouth
For ideas to make our fuss
We'd be the least of beasts from north to south
Without our mother tongue to express how we feel separate
How could we explain how we are altogether desperate?
Or give our eloquent praise to what inspires
Or project our hope to what transpires
But from the rising sun
To the setting west
Human language fun
Makes us noblest and best
Rudimentary communication
Is part of each animal nation
Yet we human creatures
Construct the abstract
And most wonderful features
That animals of earth cannot imagine
The ideas our mother tongue shelters intact