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CASTRATED POET, NO
I’ll be all they say I am
out of envy or denial:
big-headed dromedary
a flamboyant bonfire
theorem and corollary
a poem passed hand to hand
pretentious advertiser
a juggling scoundrel, damned.
I’ll be all they say I am:
Castrated poet, no!

Those who understand, as I do,
the lines with which I write myself
recognize what is mine
in all I owe them in wealth:
tenderness, as I’ve said before,
every time I craft a poem;
nostalgia, which if torn away
would drown me in sorrow’s foam;
and also joy, a calm courage
to renounce poetry itself
when it becomes a poison
more harmful than good health.

Those who understand, as I do,
the force contained in a verse
see what belongs to them too
when I reveal the universe:
Hunger is no longer spoken of—
it’s so common that it tires—
but what to say of a bullet
in a child’s skeletal mire?
Cold never makes it to history—
death is silent, soft, and cruel—
but what to say of the memory
of a napalm bomb’s fiery fuel?

And what else could the poem be,
day by day, as we survive?
A scalpel growing slowly
on a Jewish woman’s thighs;
a child about to be born,
delivered gasping, barely alive?!
Ah, don’t come to me proclaiming
that poetry is just sound and rhyme!

I’ll be all they say I am
out of fear or denial:
demagogue, false prophet,
quack doctor, sneaky thief,
prostitute and pimp alike,
the trigger for TV grief.
I’ll be all they say I am:
Castrated poet, no!

"JOSÉ CARLOS ARY DOS SANTOS"

I am sharing photos of landscapes, moments and experiences. Nature and sea are the most visited themes in my photo collection, but any attention-grabbing aspect can be photographed. Hope you enjoy it...