Triada Samaras Poem: The Speech

The Speech

I cannot say
which came first

the poem
or my political impulse

but I was supposed to make you
move your butt
that is all

I was supposed to make you
get up off your seat
and engage yourself
civically speaking

But no
you just sit there

Now my writer's block
is causing me
to doubt my democratic principles
or vice versa

because even if
all the good seats
were going to be taken
by all the fat cats
the men and women
in their greedy suits

And even if my poem
had no art
or my art no matter

The idea was to make you
move
like I can see you move
challenge
change
the way things are

But no
you just sit there

revealing the limitation
in my speech

So the art of democracy
is waning
and my poems
with it

For an art of change
must change
after all
or die

but tell me

did I stir you
when I read this poem?

Did you try to imagine
how many words
does it take
to change a thing?

Or what is the reason
for all the delay?

The Speech

I cannot say
which came first

the poem
or my political impulse

but I was supposed to make you
move your ****
that is all

I was supposed to make you
get up off your seat
and engage yourself
civically speaking

But no
you just sit there

Now my writer's block
is causing me
to doubt my democratic principles
or vice versa

because even if
all the good seats
were going to be taken
by all the fat cats
the men and women
in their greedy suits

And even if my poem
had no art
or my art no matter

The idea was to make you
move
like I can see you move
challenge
change
the way things are

But no
you just sit there

revealing the limitation
in my speech

So the art of democracy
is waning
and my poems
with it

For an art of change
must change
after all
or die

but tell me

did I stir you
when I read this poem?

Did you try to imagine
how many words
does it take
to change a thing?

Or what is the reason
for all the delay?

c. Triada Samaras

The Speech

I cannot say which came first
the poem or my political impulse,
but I was supposed to make you
move your ****—that is all.

I was supposed to make you
get up off your seat
and engage yourself,
civically speaking.

But no. You just sit there.

Now my writer's block is causing me
to doubt my democratic principles—or vice versa—

because even if all the good seats
were going to be taken
by all the fat cats,
the men and women in their greedy suits,

and even if my poem had no art,
or my art no matter,

the idea was to make you
move like I can see you move,
challenge, change the way things are.

But no. You just sit there,
revealing the limitation in my speech.

So the art of democracy is waning,
and my poems with it,
for an art of change must change,
after all—or die.

But tell me:
did I stir you
when I read this poem?
Did you try to imagine
how many words it takes
to change a thing,
or what is the reason for
all the delay?

c. Triada Samaras 2025