deepundergroundpoetry.com
Poetic Insult
The last time I stood under
Dim lights
And let my mouth make love to the mic,
I cried
It was a cleansing experience
To reveal hidden secrets
And not have a finger pointed
As if my spirit was healed and anointed,
But that's what's so amazing about poets
We are a childish existence
In a mental fitness
Which creates a finesse
That causes mind blowing linguistics
See, previously a misfit,
I conformed to writing to stay sane
A recluse bathed in vain
I realized art is a form of expression
There can not exist judgement, deductions, or negative plummets
Just opinionated conclusions
Then someone came along and said as a poet I "sucked"
And I thought it was a hallucination
Hoped it had been an illusion
Just like opening your journal and reading your thoughts without your permission,
It felt like a form of intrusion
How dare someone judge poetry
Words they look at and fail to see
It was a slap in the face
Like saying my emotions don't exist
My knowledge never feeds
As if my words hold no value
And I have to somehow do better
to prove my "artistic" side to you
Well, Mr. Grouch, do you think you're "artsier" than me...?
Cuz if you flexin on my style then you need to leave
Here is where you shouldn't be
Here the lights remain dim,
Mic stands at a whim
Awaiting for the notion
Of this rooms aesthetic devotion
Lyrical discrimination does not revolve in this realm
And if you were this so called "true" poet,
You would know this
It's a silent rule, do not negatively rate me nor I will you
I move artistry and you're ova here trying to be all scholarly
But what is art to your eyes may not be to mine
Isn't that the point or have I lost my mind?
I always give credit where it is due
Pursue this artsy love thorough and through
I give extra snaps to lyricists and MCs,
As a freestyle is far from easy
The pressure builds with every line to fill
Making sure it rhymes, is delivered on time
I don't think I could do it...
See, I need patience, breaks and pauses,
Time to express and show my flaws
Because in that lies the beauty
Poetry makes love to any feeling that I have
And becomes my biological ink seed
Thoughts can be formed, twisted, swallowed and absorbed
In its whole entity
Bumps and bruises, karma and ruses
Poetry has seen it all
Sexual fantasies, being ashamed of reality
Winter, summer,
Spring and fall
Thoughts of love and lust, living and death, killing and raping, happy, upset
The notoriousness of life's call
From the highest of moments
To our lowest downfalls
Poetry has seen it ALL
Childs mourning, rejoicing,
Smiles, sadness, good mornings
Someone's first cry for help to ever be called
Frightened, enlightened, angry and cheerful
Bold and confident, unsure and tears fall
Emotions expressed and sometimes crumpled into a ball
Trash on the street that starvation alone can not eat,
Breaking news,
Lighting in the sky
Shudders of fear chasing laughter and never knowing why
Junkies acting like high monkeys,
Smellin all funky, Trying to get a fix
Street walker getting fucked against ally walls
Damn....poetry has seen it ALL
Always picking up slack,
Having cultures back
The creators integrity and devotion is all it can lack
As poetry can not exist,
Until it's master lifts their creativity lid
Once mine was unleashed
Perceptions were no longer weak
And life as I knew it was changed
I don't know what others say
But poetry was my fate
My souls mate
Shoulda been my prom date
For all the secrets and sins it debates
Never yelled or scolded, tisked, laughed or revolted,
Just quietly absorbed it
All of my everything turned into the ink that seeped into papers body
Becoming my life, not my hobby
So before you look at me all "artistically snobby",
Because you think I don't have a poets "look",
Pick up a fucking book
Instead of reading your cosmos,
Sipping your green tea in a Starbucks lobby
See "Art of War" was what these eyes last read, not once or twice but three
But I bet Tzun Zu sounds like a new tea or fruit drink to you
And I could laugh,
Or talk shit behind your back,
but why lower to your path?
While my "sucky" self can carry down my wise track
I'd rather stick to my uniqueness and hidden disguises
Hear your insults, write about them, then revise it
To all those who feed off others flaws
It's your fault that your piling brick walls
To obscure the clarity of golden calls
Because it will never be you nor I who in the end stands tall
It will still be the poetry
Because poetry is what holds the key to it all
Published 15th Nov 2016
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 12
reading list entries 1
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Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
15th Nov 2016 11:59pm
It is beyond mind boggling to think anyone could in any way shape or form imply your writing is anything less than amazing. You regularly stagger me with your mind, your words...and every word here...strong and true. ☺
Willow
Willow
16th Nov 2016 3:36am
16th Nov 2016 00:34am
I've had many encounters with those 'true poets' n all I can say about their 'poetry' is...
Oh that's right, I've never been moved to say shit about their work lmao... U keep doing U POETESS, fuck the naysayers!!
Oh that's right, I've never been moved to say shit about their work lmao... U keep doing U POETESS, fuck the naysayers!!
16th Nov 2016 3:37am
16th Nov 2016 00:49am
ahhh..so you've encountered the snobby
self proclaimed vanguard of what should
and shouldn't be deemed as poetry..
ha!!! pay these naysayers no mind.
cuz it ain't hard to tell they use their anus
as inkwells..
um RL'ing this just on GP..[ol school for general principle]
yeahhh..you laced this piece sumthin lovely lady
speak that!!!
self proclaimed vanguard of what should
and shouldn't be deemed as poetry..
ha!!! pay these naysayers no mind.
cuz it ain't hard to tell they use their anus
as inkwells..
um RL'ing this just on GP..[ol school for general principle]
yeahhh..you laced this piece sumthin lovely lady
speak that!!!
16th Nov 2016 3:38am
16th Nov 2016 9:28am
A brilliant verse on the art of poetry! I can relate to it all. Having read out at hundreds of open mic readings and hosted one for a couple of years, I feel hat a poet has not truly lived until they have shared their heart and spread their wings before other poets. It is one thing to read them on a page but to fill the ears with the sound and passion of poetry is to make love with one's soul...
A coin has 3 sides that cannot see each other. Poets on heads, critics on tails and balance on the edge. It is the balance that is often forgotten, where critique become a wall of separation or a bond between hands that paint a bridge forever linking our desire to be heard and our asking for honest critique. For what is honest critique but an opinion of objectivity?
I think sometimes honesty can be brutal and other times it can be ignorant of the facts. It's like asking for the truth when everyone you ask has their own...
JJ
A coin has 3 sides that cannot see each other. Poets on heads, critics on tails and balance on the edge. It is the balance that is often forgotten, where critique become a wall of separation or a bond between hands that paint a bridge forever linking our desire to be heard and our asking for honest critique. For what is honest critique but an opinion of objectivity?
I think sometimes honesty can be brutal and other times it can be ignorant of the facts. It's like asking for the truth when everyone you ask has their own...
JJ
16th Nov 2016 2:58pm
May you speak some truth JJ. Exactly! The honesty can only be objective opinions. Preach it! And indeed it has been the most therapeutic for me when I do open mic. I am blessed to have a jazz cafe that hosts them twice a month where I am at. It's called a "Mic in Dim lights", which may glue more of my poem together for you now 🙃. Thanks for the read and understanding!
16th Nov 2016 7:37pm
There is a café just down the street from me, only a couple of blocks from where the café that I hosted poetry at, that has a monthly reading. We have a dozen open mic readings in our area at a variety of venues in Albany, Schenectady and Saratoga. It's a great community of poetry here. Intermixing with other poets is very therapeutic...!
JJ
JJ
Anonymous
- Edited 27th Dec 2019 12:45pm
16th Nov 2016 10:51am
<< post removed >>
16th Nov 2016 2:58pm
16th Nov 2016 8:44pm
16th Nov 2016 10:58pm
17th Nov 2016 4:26pm
Never listen to someone who says your poetry sucks. Many famous poets have been told something about their poems that were negative. It means nothing. As long as you connect with other people on some level you're doing it right. Great writing here.
14th Dec 2016 5:45pm
haha! tell'em sis, i like how you peeled this from
beneath.
Like my lady says :"Breathe"
15th Dec 2016 6:30am
