I Read The World In Prose

Vintage Words


Absorb anyone's history

mightily alive and fulfilled

with the only heroes

that matter. Identity

happens later when truth

is whispered.


Imbibing completely anyone's 

chronicles engenders greatest

value if only in emulation training;

liberating unwasted minds

to read using more and more eyes. 


Small sips of biography lead

thirst to open the intellect

to drink from what is known

or what is stumbled upon;

a half buried bronze goblet

crusted in nearly total ebony.

Stars rise followed solemnly 

by enlightened moons. Light

of any lumen value is light.


Timely, a decade or half

a hundred years later, brush

strokes describe your entire 

people; who they were, where they

walked under obscured torrents

of freedom unseen for centuries.

Enlightenment of the winners

drains away whenever lost truth 

sheds too long worn shackles

to move finally in more than

shadow dappled moon glow.


Anals of any humans serve

well as example. What to do,

what can be tried with conviction?

And so in dreaming of Alexander

I explore Asia, painting Helen's

hair on route to Troy teaches

the possibility of other textures

in many hues. Fascists and altruists,

zealots and martyrs, conquerors

or rebels against old histories

fill think tanks to overflow



Uncovering someone like us

in Sojourner Browns and Malcolm

Reds, inevitably finds and writes

a few carefully created pages

next to Ceasar and Eleanor,

Siddhartha, Christ, or Isis above

frequently and exclusively told 

stories of imperial bloodlines

and royal pasts.








Author's Notes/Comments: 


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tallsquirrelgirl's picture

This is SO GOOD! gave me a

This is SO GOOD! gave me a new viewpoint on how we learn about the past and what's remembered.

*tallsquirrelgirl* she feels in italics and thinks in CAPITALS ~henry james

allets's picture

Feeling The Past

and lies told and corrected later to be put in doubt later is a history lesson itself. Thank you for reading my work.