by The Literary Masturbator™
What if never write another poem?
Would my words constipate in the bowels of expression?
A writer writes...
But am I a writer...a poet if I no longer put pen to paper? If I never use a word program on my laptop?
There are times when I feel like if you were to cut me, poetry would ooze from my veins like blood draining into a coagulated puddle of nouns and verbs
Adjectives would no longer be cells in my body bringing much needed oxygen to my brain
I'd be insane
Screaming similes, like obscenities in a straight jacket—locked in an asylum-curled up in the fetal position
Call 911!! Call 911!!
“911-What's your emergency?”
I CAN'T FEEL MY METAPHORS!!
EMT's would have to try and resuscitate me ...pressing those paddles to my chest
When you define yourself by an art form like poetry, when it's who you are
What would happen if that were taken away?
I'd feel confined like one of the Africans on a ship during the middle passage
My drums, history, and everything I knew...ripped from me, shackled-loaded on in the belly of a boat, surrounded by people I couldn't communicate with because we didn't speak the same language-because we're not from the same tribe...sort of like someone who can't pay their mortgage, talking to an investment banker...
I'd be like a slave...singing schoolhouse rock songs as if they were negro spirituals...coded messages to help me plan escape or rise up in revolt...
I'd paraphrase Patrick Henry--”Give Me Poetry Or Give Me Death!!”
You see poetry is love and life...
Compassion and hope...
Poetry is what I use to cope
I couldn't survive without it...nope
I couldn't be...me
It must be what it feels like to be sentenced to death...
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Copyright©2010 Jair
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