Bring Back To Me Bradbury’s Dystopia
A Poem by Pablo Pereyra
Bring back to me Bradbury’s dystopia,
At least books to burn they had,
At least ashes would bring warmth,
For the body, if forgotten, the soul was.Turn up the heat to Fahrenheit 451
Destroy poetry, dreams, and such,
Make this word’s author anonymous,
Burn with fire, this vanity of mine.
On Medium. On seemingly making the author anonymous. Placing all value in the title, streamlining culture. No bifurcations. A long-wide, circular highway. “Go through the narrow road,” one man some call wise, once I recall, to some of his friends, he told.
Poetry harbors complexity and simplicity at once. And we are kidding ourselves if we claim that poetry has not had to fight its way with writing that claimed “How to fix your life, get laid, and finally find success in life in five easy steps” for a long time now.
Maybe for longer than what we care to count.
