poetized commentary on the previous post

the finding of that text brought a ray of hope
and amazingly eased this transitory
battle because I intuited vestiges
of the feel or style of what I remembered
liking so much about this region,
this state; which much like being in Bucharest
is a feel which word descriptive seems
eternally elusive, evasive,
and I feared thanks to all the influx

over the few decades since I was last here,
that feel I remembered liking a lot,
was all but extinct, this unassuming,
unhurried, little city
and the area around this unassuming,
unhurried, little city,
that lovable feel gone mostly extinct.
So I feared. So it smelled. But I see
it is not extinct. It is endangered.

That’s for sure. But as long as a fiber
can find a way to pulsate just enough,
well by golly I guess that’s a reason
to believe it will not all die out.
Oh be sure. There are entities
who are on a mission to eradicate
these few vestiges that remain – wish I knew
what it was that it seems like whenever
I find I like a place, there’s entities

– let’s call them busybody entities –
who come along and are propelled by
the intention of eradicating
the exact things or attributes that turn me on.
Like Bucharest: bunch of tidiness-obsessed
Germanic spirits whose asses are so uptight
swept in and are fixed in their mission to rid
Bucharest of all that appears dirty or
improper or wild or not so progressive

as their neighbors to the west – assume
there can be none who could be opposed or prefer
they take their tidy-minded asses
elsewhere, because some of us out here
really don’t give a fuck about being
progressive and understand there’s nothing worse
than progressives who take it upon themselves
to preach and lecture and try to lead
everyone in some stupid forward

direction; man I hate them so; anyway,
I think the good news for both here and there
is that they will fail because the geographic
spirits specific to this and that
respective geographical spot
(s) do not tolerate compatibility
and one can only hope the tidy-
progressive-whiny-moralistic-crusader
-preachers will find they reap no advantages

in this or that world and will pack
their goddamn knapsacks and backpacks
and scurry back to their high ivory spires
and close themselves off to this our beautiful,
decadent, backward, unassuming, unhurried,
world, and we can return to a life like it was
before they invaded and propagated.
Well I got offtrack I reckon.
No hurry getting back I reckon.

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About Timmy the Scribbler

Love to write all kinds of stuff I love writing so many different kinds of stuff it is a constant struggle to narrow the focus to a manageable handful and let the others go. But a few years ago I dipped my fingers into a poetry pie and of all my uncertainties, one thing that is no uncertainty is that it is one passion that must remain, so maybe that's the one. I do dearly delight in chopping up fictional works into stanzas and syllables.
This entry was posted in commentary, geography, poetry, the way I feel about it, virginia and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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