This is a poem

 This is a poem that doesn’t want you to sit down and listen 

It wants you to participate 

To stand up and shout at the abyss 

When it’s Null-Plus and void of depth 

Instead of a vortex of light and condensed space 

It wants you to get a blank piece of paper out 

And draw the name of this poem as a symbol 

Of change 

To walk over from the page and be touched by a listener 

That wants to ask you to dance with it 

But is too shy 

Maybe later after a few more drinks 

it wants to sing it’s words like a chorus 

but has been told too many times 

that it can’t sing 

maybe later after a few more dances 

This poem wants to break free from expected poetic devices 

To stand out and challenge a pitbull of form

An a cat of meter , expected beat 

And shake off the critic who said no poem should ever be shouted 

it wants to rip up your scripts and recipes 

chew it  up into a pulp , into a formless shape 

that has no name but a tangible call to action 

This poem demands that you draw a symbol of change 

To think of something you want to change, take it’s first middle and last letter 

And draw them together as one symbol 

The name of this poem that is yours to own, 

Draw a rectangle around it like it’s a flag that carries your own faith 

Then scrunch it up and throw it at this poem 

The boot of the mob and preachers of automatons will want to stomp on it 

Society will want to revise and formulate it to suit them

But this poem will collect them all

Press them into the essence of what this poem is 

And release them into the air later once they are burnt into its fabric 

Into the four directions of winds to take it 

Into the world to manifest 

Into the change you need 

This poem wants long walks in the west Auckland bush 

And forage for bolete and wood ears 

All by itself 

This poem wants to hold hands in public and suffer 

Long wrap around hugs from strangers 

And secretly enjoy it 

To enjoy the excitement of a toddler discovering life for the first time 

And a moment later rage in frustration at the  same experience as it doesn’t work out as expected 

But then someone comes in and just solves it for you 

And you feel the warmth of hope and comfort again 

To laugh and rage into that green light 

Under a pinky-orange dawn 

That welcomes a world of change 

This is a poem that: (has no name)