PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

During the early seventies, before

I had been called to write poetry, I

wanted to write science fiction.  When I

informed my parents, they applauded my

decision---believing science fiction

to be a profitable vocation.

I could not have told them of the planet

I wanted to describe in my stories:

a world like earth, but wholly bucolic;

populated by adolescent males

whose adolescence last centuries

(according to earthly measures of time).

A mostly concealed network of robots,

androids, and computers performed all the

mundane necessities---including a

defense system capable of wholly

destroying any aggressor, including

prejudiced prudes, haters, and bullies (just

like in my high school at the time).  The

inhabitants of this fictive planet

wore long hair; and, in the planet's balmy

atmosphere---little more than jocks (if that

much).  Public displays of affection shown

to each other were considered to be

spiritual acts.  By dusk and until dawn,

the inhabitants also wore long socks---

thigh-highs.  The concept of shoes was wholly

alien to that world.  Poetry was

its primary verbal accomplishment.

Starward