Spoken Word Killed The Poet

You used to write heart wrenching
Narratives on the complexities of life
Ego well grounded while you
Gave yourself and others the gift of flight

On hot summer days your gift
Served as a cool breeze
Allowing all to bask in the heavens
Bouncing on syllables
Before sliding down silky similes

But spoken word killed the poet

It’s no longer about the message
As it is about the rhyme
It’s not about creating a connection
As it is about that ovation after that killer line
It’s not about uplifting your fellow man
As it is about winning a poetry slam

That’s it…you’ve become a performer
Spoken word killed the writer in you.

I’ll admit that you are the best
Not sure when it became a popularity contest
Maybe it always was and I was naive
But I think I’m going to take some time off
Before I get infected with the disease

Spoken word is killing all the poets