Today Poetry Is in Mourning. The Quotation Ball
(– censorship that silences like sewing machines stitching lies with needles from a hypocritical medical chart)
Author: D’Bara Arruda

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(Real talk, mate: they hijacked the word.
Word doesn’t bend
– and in the twists of arguments,
they censored the poet
and dismembered the voice of the people.)

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Brutal violence:
when history told by lips of pale skin
reshapes the facts just to keep power.

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Today poetry is imprisoned
– You mad? They mugged the immortal uncle,
stole his seat in the academy
and dumped the scholarly letters in the trash
to cover up the evidence.
(Because words never return empty –
oh yeah! This one came back tasting of heartache
and hints of erotic funk.)

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Today poetry is afraid
– I would be too...
Between four walls washing
the brain with Mignon,
(plim plim),
lobotomising feelings with soap operas.
– Where’s Zé do Caroço?

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And at the quotation ball,
it’s no longer about whitening
– it’s about how the manipulated masses
become functional idiots.
Did it work?
Of course!
Look at poetry cornered,
crying over the rotting corpse of the word...
(plim plim) – Off I go...
(plim plim) – Here we come...
(Close the quotation.
But the bullet has already pierced the page.)