Independence Day Poem

"You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you."
– Ray Bradbury

Ain't it the truth? The problem with creativity though is that sometimes our footprints are too allegorical or symbolic for just anyone to follow. Case in point. This very odd poetic argument written by me, NOT Ray Bradbury--

Swollen words of vanity, of artistry, and skill,
Cannot persuade a mountain that its consciousness is ill
Or that its mass does sway and shudder, never standing still.
Denial.
Denial.
Denial.
No turmoil, angst, or peril lurks amid my vision blurred
Though warning cries bear witness to a whirlwind you have spurred
By gossip born of malcontent, not ripples that occurred.
Denial.
Denial.
Denial.
So servile is the valley as it winds about your heels.
Once your pride, it held your side and now, see how it kneels,
Collecting flesh and bone you shed. Imagine how that feels.
Denial.
Denial.
Denial.
Oh, howling wind of futile breath, why must we bandy more
The merits of my grandeur and the envy of the shore?
These breezy jealous protests are a vain transparent bore.
Denial.
Denial.
Denial.
You curse all nature's elements but reign without a shield,
Too ignorant to tremble at your destiny to yield
And fall before a stalwart power that blindness has concealed.
Denial.
Denial.
Denial.
Yet I prevail against you still, your gusts, cloudbursts, and sleet
While all your efforts flow in brooks and rivers at my feet.
Who shall we say, then, of us two, must now admit defeat?
Denial.
Denial.
Pathetic denial.
A gale is free to blast and grind with nothing to impede
Erosion of immobile peaks left standing there to bleed.
Defeat, you ask? Which one of us? Which one of us, indeed.

Stupid mountain. He really thinks he doesn't have to bow before the howling wind. This is a rare political commentary from an author who usually avoids writing about such things. It seemed like a fitting Independence Day tribute.