A Spoken Poetry
Yes, I am a thespian.
The unsung musician.
The rabbit of the magician.
On the tip of my mother tongue
Lingers a distasteful tang
Of what poetry has become
A worldsmith thru words
Yet I only get bestowed of awards.
Extinguish the blaze
Distinguish the haze
Relinquish the gaze–
Why are you so amazed
Of this cul-de-sac maze?
A curtain call, but I am unfazed.
A slave to my emotions,
A paperboat to the maritime motions.
In the enlightened night of my soul
Spontaneously I combust the notion
That in the portrayal of these long-winded roles
We glamorize the reservations of the narrow
When we do not one to be one of them proles
Up in the sleeve of our marrows