He Likes His Point Of View

2013
J. Otis Powell‽ 

Adamas is known to be oppositional and augmentative
Agreeing with other points of view 
Seem bland when there’s no definitive position
                          And perspective shifts like tsunami sands 
Astigmatized visions rule this world and 
Mark
Every tale of triumph with disgrace and infamy
Some inherit only wind
With it’s questions about ocean depth and
Soul width  
The length and breath
Of life's unending renewal of confusion and chaos 
     Wind-blown children of dandelions are
Uprooted by breezes   in humid air pockets
Dispersed indiscriminately among grasses and flowers
Blown into manicured lawns that reek of herbicides
He is a son of a dandelion daddy who only dropped his seeds 
Acephalic steams of dandelions father a future 
While rooted in stigmata of past absurdity
Gale forces govern spirits without solid footing and 
Demand answers to questions gods venture
About the sway of strong wills
The temperature of heat indexes 
And side effects of insecticide on genetic structures
Adamas has grown hard and jaded despite attempts to weed him out 
Without synthetic fertilizer
He returns each spring to litter air and lawns
For he has purpose beyond appreciation
Beyond illusions of perfection 
Bastard plants won’t be cultivated  
Protected or arranged
Into a bouquet 
They are worthless they are priceless
They 
Like him 
Project radical perspectives 
Change worlds in undesirable and troublesome ways
He that grows profusely 
Where he is not wanted
An ungainly man 
Valueless on cultivated ground
Is the X factor
His neck stretches 
And contorts until his point of view
Is upside down 
Inside out
Until he sees the other side 
Of every opinion 
He is only superfluous to those 
Who hold truth as privilege 
Those invested in the way things are
He’s among the chronically unemployed 
The ironically unemployable 
Because he resist his-story with impunity 
He won’t celebrate Columbus Day
Or juneteenth 
They are mendacious conundrums 
Fulgurate strobes of bad records 
Of people denied liberty and justice
He is in the forty seven percent 
He is Adamas 
Thursday’s child 
With so far to go 
Born on Thanksgiving into American Apartheid 
In a world with no use for him
He is screaming saxophones at Orchestra Hall 
Loud conversations in the public library
Adamas is duende in fluorescent rooms
Calling for the madness needed to invent a future
To rewrite stories from dandelion views