Polemics in America

Reactionary

Hit the Nerve

Truth begins where certainty breaks.

Truth isn’t owned—it’s forged in disagreement

You say something real

  They snap

Not because your idea’s weak
  Not because they read it
Because thinking sucks
  Because it burns
  Because comfort is easier

So they hit you
  Really fucking hit you

Gut punch
  name-calling
  cheap-ass ad hominem
Drive-by bullshit ricocheting
  off your ribs

It’s everywhere

Politics
  office bullshit
  family dinners
Bars
  where everyone’s a critic
  sloshed on beer
  and arrogance

A thought shows teeth?
  Kill it
  Neutralize it
  Dodge the point

Social media?
  Accomplice
  Likes
  Shares
  Retweets
  Reward the hit
  Not the thought

Strike the person
  Dodge the work
  Make noise
  Look smart
  Fast
  Easy
  Safe

Ad hominem
  weapon of the lazy
  cheap
  efficient
  performative
Shows the crowd you belong
  Shields you
  from ideas bigger than your consensus-driven bullshit

Thinking? Work
  Reflection? Risky
  Attacking the person? Easy
Immediate
  Gratifying

The hiss
  The flak
  The “you don’t belong” shit
Proof
  Your words cut
  Through lazy comfort
  Through bullshit

People feel
  People react
Someone has to talk
  Write
  Shove thought
  into a world
  that scrolls
  swipes
  yawns

Cheap shots
  Flak
  Noise
Compass points
  Markers
  Signs you’re alive

That’s what pisses people off

Threaten comfort
  Identity
  Habit
They lash out
  Gut-level
  Reflex
  Fuck you
  Not the point

Politics
  News
  Daily circus
Cheap shots everywhere
Personal attacks masquerading as debate
Idea? Doesn’t matter
Argument? Doesn’t matter
Appearances? Matter
Performance? Matter

Thinker takes the beating
  Messenger drowns
  in cheap-ass insults
Everyone claps
  No one thinks

And yet
  If nobody reacts
  You’re invisible
If your words don’t sting
  You don’t matter
Flak is a signpost
  Cheap shots prove
  you hit a nerve

So what do you do?

Write
  Argue
  Piss people off
Let the cheap shots fly

Keep going
  Hit harder
  Cut closer
  Don’t flinch
Someone has to shove thought
  into laziness
  scrolling
  distraction
  polite silence

Not about popularity
  Not likes
  Not applause

It’s about life

It’s about truth

Words slice
  like a bartender’s knife
  through rotten fruit
Burn like whiskey
  down a raw throat
Bruise like a fist
  that refuses to let go
Wake someone
  Maybe one someone
Out of the coma of habit

Cheap shots land on you?
  Good
Wear them like medals
  Proof you’re alive
  Proof your words have teeth
  Proof thought is alive
  Bleeding
  Screaming
  Raging
Proof the world isn’t dead yet

Keep writing
  Keep arguing
  Keep bleeding words
Let them hiss
  Let them spit
Throw every cheap-ass insult in the book

If your work doesn’t sting
  It doesn’t matter
If nobody reacts
  You’re dead already

Cheap shots
  Flak
  Noise
Markers
  Compass points
  Signs you’re on the right path
Messy
  Loud
  Ugly

But alive

Alive beats polite silence
  Every damn time