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Not By The Book

There are places I want to see before I die. They say America is the land of the free. I want to go to a "restricted" land just to see.


Percolating, alert and awake

Waking up those who are tired

Of the same old grind

Come Rumi, Hafiz, the Alevi Bektaci, the Alowites

How do they manage this sleight of hand

Like a magic parlor manifestation?

Rising over the virus of a war manifesto

Spinning, dancing over smoldering graves

They eliminate the fetid stench of

Bad ideas and the travesty of the law

And carry forth in the beauty of new life

Radiant as an Emerald Earth

Not afraid to let go of the unspeakable

Singing in new verse, with new music.

What gives rise to these souls

In a land that shuns all things

Not found in a book not many can read?

Is this fertilizer that creates the mind of free thinkers?

Mystic and free--not because of restriction--

But in spite of it?

Unable to reconcile their poetic songs

With the constricted pages of one book,

They separate out like sweet cream

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