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Ronie Dinosaur

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ABOUT THE POEM: Ronie Dinosaur Walks emerges from prolonged exposure to institutional sameness—rehab, correction, reform spaces where individuality is flattened into compliance and politeness is rewarded more than honesty. The speaker does not position himself above others, but within the collective exhaustion of people asked to explain themselves endlessly while being quietly diminished. Writing “as the mob” is not a claim of conformity, but a refusal of false individuality. It reflects the experience of being addressed as a category rather than a person, where one’s history is reduced to intake forms, progress charts, and approved narratives of improvement. In such spaces, staying “polite” becomes a survival strategy, even as it enables exploitation and erasure. The poem resists spectacle. It does not dramatize recovery or seek redemption through confession. Instead, it ranks values: love, lust, art, and above them, consciousness itself—defined not as enlightenment, but as awareness paired with a clean heart. This hierarchy rejects both indulgence and moral performance. The recurring image of walking functions as persistence rather than progress. There is no promise of arrival, only continuity of stance. Coherence, here, is not stylistic neatness but ethical consistency—a single stream of consciousness maintained under pressure. “Ronie Dinosaur walking” becomes a declaration of existence without apology: movement without spectacle, dignity without approval, and identity sustained even when humanity is negotiated or withheld. The poem stands as a record of remaining intact inside systems designed to smooth people down. It begins at the source—the heat of Being. It pours through the mind, keeping the heart-fire clean. It carves a character that refuses to kneel, refining desire into a blade of intent, until only the strike remains: the step, the action, the footprint. They trade in lust and call it power. They trade in love and call it debt. I trade in art to prove I was here. I live in awareness to prove I am free.

Title – Ronie Dinosaur Walks

One didn’t consider a boy-just a boy.
Another couldn’t accept the young man in him.
One wasn’t woman enough for the man he had become.
And then there was one who didn’t even grant him humanity.

Love is the strongest feeling.
Lust is the most powerful emotion.
Above them sits art itself.
Higher still: pure consciousness-
awareness, self-awareness, a clean heart.

I write as the mob, tired
of staying “polite” while being exploited.

If even I don’t know, then who does?
And if I alone have become wrong,
then who is right?
-mind you, keeping a clean heart.

A single stream of consciousness
they call coherence.
I call it Ronie Dinosaur walking.

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