So what came first
The poet or the words
If I dissect my dialect
I suspect the verbs
Then colorful adjectives
Objectively glorify
My life and experience
To the words I grasp from floating by
They breathe life into each sentence
The subject’s are my own
But there is wisdom bleeding into the predicate unknown
Plain lines grow wings and take flight
When hyperbolized from visions untrue to my sight
Yet I fight to speak them
There is a constant stream of verbiage behind my eyes
The perpetual metamorphosis turns me into a contortionist
and its draining
to be non offensive I refrain it
to be relevant I sustain them
acrobatics become mathematics
the rhymes within my mind are bumper to bumper two way traffic
dictionary pages flying in the wet rain of my soul
when left unattended builds to havoc
so what came first
the poet or the words
ive heard before that they want to step into my mind
but why would you want to be mute also when already blind
why would you want to be deaf
with only touch and taste left
Helen keller never asked for the incredible gifts she received
When you can’t hear, see, or speak to anyone else
Then yourself you have to believe
Within yourself you have to achieve
Such a state of zen that your left and right mend
reality is the only one your chemical synapses send
To each muscle of your being where words are engraved
never judged on what was spoken because a word was never gave
yet so much brilliance captured
living an uphill battle on a snow bank with slick tires
no traction for adaption
climbing to see the sun never to see it looking back at you
so what came first
the poet or the words
some say poets have a direct line to God
ive debated on whether it be true
because if it were
I we you would not do the things we do
With direct communication would come an understanding
So demanding and outstanding
And if its true and yet we still do the things we do
Then we deserve the spiritual beating
That we’ve been withstanding
You’re not supposed to be comfortable with the words that I say
If you were then I wouldn’t be doing my job
As an artist ive never felt like I fit in
When I try to in fit I like felt odd
So what came first
The poet or the word
Poetry is a place where the broken meet the broken
to share all the hustle through the struggles
and find home in each other miseries
hid away deep in our duffle
so everywhere you go I go with you
so many wounds have seen more than a stitch or two
as I stand on a corner with a “will work for words” sign
these words became my transportation
they threw me a lifeline when I flatlined
and I never regretted the day I signed
up for the devastation of all of these situations
as a poet my place is to nurture those trying to see free
trying to heal through speech
so what came first
the poet or the words