Yolks Like Moons or Language Dominatrix by Paul Handley

Yolks Like Moons or Language Dominatrix

A page blanketed with words that cannot be seen is my goal
since communication is inherently steered to have meaning for the speaker
apart from the receiver,
and any assent or dissent is leapt upon as proof
of joining the matrix of the speaker’s essence.

The blank page allows the speaker to have a say without inflicting the
power trip upon the receiver. In turn, the receiver is allowed to
interpret what has been said and disregard the messenger.
As such, the receiver of this poem is not a passive receptacle
but may choose to read it as an ad hominem attack on the speaker.

What’s for dinner is the language of the oppressor, since
the word dinner may be encased in symbolism either on a conscious
or unconscious level for the oppressor.
The word dinner may also have a long and winding history
that may have ended with an ancestor’s subject or two twisting in the wind
if the vittles were overdone or what have you.

What’s for dinner is the language of the oppressed, since as seen above,
tradition has demonstrated that whoever is making dinner
has usually been trampled upon, unless you were Catherine de Medici.

The dilemma in this poem is that poets are inherently oppressors,
firmly tamping down, as fits a poetic mien, verses onto the oppressed,
tampering, however so slightly with the attributes of words
as forged by the reader over a life of signifiers.
Particularly, if the receiver is who we think they are.
Thus, invisible ink never revealed is the answer.

Paul Handley

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