Forte And Fugue Poem by Julia Luber

There are so many people doing things that are so interesting
that we truly know nothing about. About life's appeal to fascination,
curiousity, even wonder-there really should be no doubt.

Yet somehow the bold is overtaken by something that shoves itself OUT!
As if understanding oneself is an Action that extorts this realm of no doubt.
And yet I recede into a nether world and choose to stick with a fascinated route.

Let people who know nothing about them and would never bother to know
stick with their obvious aggression on thinking it just a show. And that
there exists no truth behind what they force into center front stage.

Subtle behind their offensive demonstrative aggression: unctuous
conceited rage. They've subsumed something so simple and pure to something
more kin to that Godawful Fuhrer- usurping psyche's plum of deception

to that which they position themselves as a cure. And through displacement
they exploit personality, even charm of self effacement and make it one
aggressive offense. Because to hijack the psychology of a people

to their sociopathic suspense is their method of recompense for people besides
themselves-composing the dozens' twelves. A force of selfish narcissism like no other
they usurp the parents' love and memory of the dead brother

to ego: through such impose themselves on the space of forte and fugue.