Humble Mouths

Raw Perspectives! Wordplay from active minds and humble mouths.

Where are the Poets?

I spent my entire life twisting phrases in inoperable ways,
trying my hardest to live up to this title of “Poet” and everything that being a poet says.
Waging wars with warped weapons welcomed as words over whisky; alphabetical food trays.
Serving up something diligent to any bystander, audience member or those engaging in the casual gaze.

At first I was most intrigued by huge adjectives but even more so by dissecting them down into edible fillets,
Then I tried to subdue my hues and cues to couplets but free form became the only way for my prose to graze.
So I unleashed an Armageddon of cross burning consonants strung up by nooses bound like consonance of K’s.
                                                                  [KKK get it??]
Anyways, I believed God branded me with a talent to tally verbal compilations in rhythmical compliance.
Deter the social structure and poke socialism like an accepting vagina, to uprise against conformity with defiance.
My only alliance, was with heaven and the pen. That which I drew from stone, manifesting beastly comparisons and drafting contrasts from the wits of geniuses and the bicep mass of giants.
Ink etching lifelike formations from mere abc’s; my god-like appliance…
                       Notably morphing metaphors into matadors in metaseconds maniacally!

But in the midst of it all I noticed I was alone in my dwarfed universe.

Where are the Poets?

I haven’t met that many, my mentor and the greats before him have passed on and in their honor I go ape-shit-poetic every chance I get.
You’re out there though and for the few I have found with the exception of the Def Poets, I follow you… I am a part of the mission, I am a sublet.
But the multitude of undiscovered wordsmiths and lyricists that I have not yet encountered…
Where are you?

Where are the Poets?

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