what I write, isn’t poetry
to me
poetry is clean
direct in its route
impactful in its message
meticulous in its process
vast in its imagination of worlds
creating from conclusions and proclamations, cosigning a specific tone
poetry filters thoughts,
intangibly directing it towards a tangible something,
arriving at a statement, filtered of excess garb and gab
redundancy possibly overwhelming the message intended
poetry assumes an emotion, innovating metrics and metaphors-
playing with language and its neologisms, inside subliminal and ambiguous plots
I’m no storyteller
I don’t wish to learn to write right
I love embodiment and expression
because I’m a physical learner
absorbing emotions and events
poets have more maturity, discipline, composure, and structural form than I
they have more theatrical build-up than my impulsiveness has patience for
though we both have a flair for the dramatic and a desire to express
they have more harmony with the traditional mechanics of language
I detest tradition,
in that it is imprisoning to me creatively and personally,
I am broad in my edges,
and rebelliously sharp in my proclamations-as to compensate for the decades of voicelessness I embodied-
because fear of a truth that I didn’t fit in,
didn’t fit me,
or a truth that did not accept me
rendering me more lonely once exposed to conformity personified in my family, peers, neighbors, strangers, and authority figures,
all which I felt outside of,
and shunned from,
doing anything just to cling to a semblance of their acceptance for what I never naturally inherited-per my physiognomy, genome, geography, and manner of upbringing
but to me,
I take every bit of scrap and create a collage of expressions,
sometimes duplicitous,
sometimes ambiguous,
sometimes ambivalent
sometimes paradoxical
sometimes in prose and parables
I write in a solecism-type style,
with pompous wordy redundant uses of language
implanting colloquialisms, neologisms, euphemisms, and sesquipedalians
to create a raw, unforgiving, matter of fact way of speaking-a slap in the face- with the free flowing form of any conversation, plea, diatribe, and pontification for attention,
usually attached to a rhyme scheme,
as to be entertaining enough to be digestible to help whoever reading arrive at the end,
without leaving a word too soon,
and in that audacious and often witty juxtaposition,
I hope to create an invite into my depth
and the meaning of my words and the why of their usage
because words by themselves for me are hard to have enough attention span to read
but words that are raw expressive and creative,
capturing both imagination and emotion, always lure me in
all I wish to create is either a questioning that creates a journey in itself,
or a purging that creates a look into my depth,
that can’t just be conversed in its natural form
and may summon an empathy or familiarity,
where a bond can be formed
or at least an open wound congealed enough to get to the next barrage of pain and trauma left in wake of moments, before the rigamortis of new scars set in
I’m not a poet
I just prose emotional positions
to purge out my internal calamity
and external insanity
poetry is necessary as a translator
for its vast realism and imaginative impact
and to achieve, it must write and read with an eloquence and beauty
to believe my writing is poetry, you must first investigate and then redefine what your meaning of beauty and eloquence is
but since when have people ever liked change?
at least in their immediate lifespan, change is always spoken of as a point of pride, heroically lauded as a champion of humanity in the lense of history, but that same outlook never occurs interpersonally
change is too threatening
that is a line too uncomfortable to broach or breach, when people pride their comforts over conscience
change is the martyrdom of tradition and complacency,
it doesn’t not come without a fatalistic attempt at resistance, as if the very preservation it seeks will put an end to life, likened to an extinction-level event, if not accomplished
…and I think I’m dramatic?!
but drama is life, and art imitates life
and such is our country I suppose..
all that to say, I’m not a poet
I just Poet
poet justice, poet strength, poet individuality, poet pain, poet spirituality, poet equality, poet expressions, poet emotions, poet reality, poet truth, poet darkness, poet light, poet imbalance, poet balance, poet war, poet peace, poet struggle, poet life, poet death, poet love, poet confusion, poet prose, poet wisdom, poet process, poet growth, poet empowerment, poet imprisonment, poet liberation, poet redemption, poet truth, poet lies
and poet a drink or two and swallow the bittersweet and indifference
I just do me…don’t cage it, let it, me, yourself, and us all be free