Poem #228 - This poem is a reflection on superstition and fear.
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Joshua Brown
I was tempted to draw another swastika
Held back instead by the hesitation of mind
For what desperate place might I be
To imagineer into existence the complacency
Of distress that that commune rained upon us
Terror wrought by those well versed in prose
Whose command of fear knew no bounds
To draw upon that strength some material ill
Upon those opposed to their desires and will
Crushing them, not by death alone, but images
Propaganda and deceit to lay bare that slip
That nations had allowed to decay the truth
And once I again, I saw that my own fear
Betrayed that those magic symbols had alas
Garnered power among the hearts and minds
Of myself and those I feared, as a terror tool
Wielded craftily by those determined to live
Against the odds of erasure by petty vapidness
And anti-natal cruelty protected by the rulers
Of the dark corners of hell who praise death.
#poem #poetry #fear #superstition #religion #witchcraft #propaganda #mindcontrol #terrorism #nation #psyop #psychological #psychology #sayallthewords
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📅 Written November 22, 2024
📍 Written at Joshua's work along the West Toll Gate Creek
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Should you say something just because someone told you not to? What is the line for being rude, crude or playing devil's advocate? How can we be effective communicators if the rest of the world makes assumptions about who we are or what we believe based off of a word or idea we share?
All these questions and more are what I contemplate in this poem, because, of course, sometimes, the world is warning us about the danger that lies ahead by sharing thoughts and ideas, using memes and being true to what we actually feel. So take that warning and consider carefully trespassing into areas that others defend with violence.
But it is vital that you be brave, because once the enemy realizes that he can simply define a word as "bad" surely he will use those words to constrict you into ever less beneficial ideas for you and the future of your children and into the service of his desires or shallow atrophy.
Be brave, but not stupid.
a Joshua Brown poem #228 "In Jesus' Name Abracadabra"
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