Poetry, Politics

I will not melt

I yawp my barbaric sound

Photo by Vince Veras on Unsplash

I will not melt

I am who I am.
I will be what I will be.
I will not melt for you
or for anyone else.

I will play my fiddle,
and yawp my barbaric sound
on the clef of my choosing.
Cover your ears if you must.
No sound ordinance will stop me.

Play your instruments
in your houses
in the manners
to which you are accustomed.

You are welcome
to experiment, or not,
with new chords,
but do not force
your chords
on my instrument.

Let our voices mingle,
shake hands,
discuss the weather,
get to know each other,
dance a little bit,
and see what happens
in the next movement.

Society’s
great symphony
is not created
through silencing
new instruments.

Another poem I’ve written on socio-political themes

Still Dreaming