Last week I saw some spoken word performances on TV that were pretty inspiring. I think it can be a powerful form of poetry with the right content and delivery.
Last night I went to bed with some thoughts in my head, and they came in some nebulous form of spoken word. So I took to my pen and pad. Here is my published form of spoken word (it’s still better spoken for delivery). It’s about war and freedom.
We speak diplomacy in the land of the free but thoughts are costly, look what they bought me a space between these lonely walls, cell block four, caged victim of these mental bars. They tell me bend don't break, but broken is the state of my soul that states I'm in no place to negotiate when hate is what they perpetrate, the weapon that fuels men and women equally skewed to retaliate. We all tryin' to talk but ain't none listenin', so we exchange blows for ideas, I'm guessin' the war's goin' on but it's not found in the foreign but in the altars of our hearts and that's where we're losin'. Extend your hands, brother, but why you close 'em? Fists clenched speak of battle, that's the cry of children screamin' "get, get, get!" so we fell another, blood for diamonds or for oil, and so we toil as with the curse that came with the first murder. Drop your weapon, unclench your fist, first know that my hands extend not to take but give. Open are my palms, like alms for a beggar who knows he is but dust and ashes, and the ground from which he has risen is the ground to which he shall return, but dust and ashes. I speak diplomacy in the land of the free where Martin built a movement that moved as did Luther, ninety-five theses but the main one is this, where love and freedom ring, the people shall taste truth with a kiss.