As I
was sitting one day a question crossed my mind
If I
was to stand in front of people to say my words out loud
What
words would I say
What
poem would it write
For
the day I stand on the platform of those before me on spoken word
night
I
wracked my brains over and over but alas
I
came up with nothing
I
wanted to write a poem
So
majestic and eloquent
It
would seem as if the words are flowing through me from the Gods of
literature
Invade
the crevasse of your psyche
As
if I'm Leonardo in Inception
Taking
an adventure to the center of your core
I
wanted to write a poem that would give people a high like a drug
And
that euphoria as ones senses are alight
Write
a poem of such epic proportions that even Morpheus would call me The
One
But
alas your stuck with this one
See
what I did there I rhymed words
Some
do it as easily as breathing
Some
have to struggle with dictionaries and thesauruses
And
whatever book that has so many words
But
I digress I was speaking to you about the poem I wanted to write for
this day
I
wanted to make it rhyme
Like
I
wish my words would be the morphine to your pain
To
soothe you and leave you with happiness gained
Id
like to entertain you
Make
you smile
Turn
you bright instead of blue
Write
a poem that would be criss crossing like match the columns
Mixing
up words like as if they were Criss Cross
A
poem that would make women melt like Icaruses wings when he got to
close to the sun
Blow
your mind like a hurricane that passed and left nothing but the baren
land
No
grass nor sands
But
alas again we are stuck with my ranting
Then
a light bulb flicked on and I realized I was already writing a poem
My
poem
You
see it doesn't have to be written with rhymes
Speak
of love
Or
be a conscious piece
My
poetry
Are
the thoughts of my mind
They
seep and permeate from my soul
From
my perceptions
From
my truth
My
pain
My
sorrow
My
hopes
My
dreams
My
laughter
And
my quirks
All
of us are poets
Because
poetry is within us
We
just need that little spark to ignite the flame
From
the world around us
It
is in the beauty of the sunrise over a misty day
The
innocence of a childs laughter
In
the heartbeat you feel with your head on their chest
Art
is Poetry
And
poetry
Well
Poetry
is US.
“Better
to write for yourself and have no public than to write for the public
and have no self”. Ceral Connoley.
Jah Bless
