I Am A Bleak Heroism Of Words

To Face The Realities Of Our Lives Is Not A Reason For Despair-despair Is A Tool Of Your Enemies. Facing The Realities Of Our Lives Gives Us Motivation For Action. For You Are Not Powerless... You Know Why The Hard Questions Must Be Asked. It Is Not Altruism, It Is Self-preservation-survival.

I Want To Live The Rest Of My Life, However Long Or Short, With As Much Sweetness As I Can Decently Manage, Loving All The People I Love, And Doing As Much As I Can Of The Work I Still Have To Do.

... Poetry Is Not A Luxury. It Is A Vital Necessity Of Our Existence. It Forms The Quality Of The Light Within Which We Predicate Our Hopes And Dreams Toward Survival And Change, First Made Into Language, Then Into Idea, Then Into More Tangible Action. Poetry Is The Way We Help Give Name To The Nameless So It Can Be Thought. The Farthest Horizons Of Our Hopes And Fears Are Cobbled By Our Poems, Carved From The Rock Experiences Of Our Daily Lives.

Anger Is Loaded With Information And Energy.

Our Feelings Are Our Most Genuine Paths To Knowledge. They Are Chaotic, Sometimes Painful, Sometimes Contradictory, But They Come From Deep Within Us. And We Must Key Into Those Feelings... This Is How New Visions Begin.