The word “poetist” is used to describe someone that is against poetry and has a hate for those that create it.
They are a part of the rest of the elitism who see the poetic truth as dust.
And have ignored the spoken word soundtrack,
That has been playing for decades,
Ever since the magic of honest writers filled the coffeehouses of New York City late at night,
Where the sounds of snaps cluttered about audiences.
The world continues to search for an antidote,
To heal this dying environment,
But wars commence,
Whether between countries or blood relatives.
Earth is too busy to listen to what poets have documented and observed to manifest it into a miniature Broadway performance,
Because it is too busy executing dictators, Busy making the National Enquirer the replacement of every daily newspaper,
Busy satisfying its lust for pop culture shortcomings,
And attempting to get Myspace to hit “Backspace”.
But I put myself at fault as well,
Seeing that my mother’s bad side consists of an angry poet with important orders,
And my ears are temporarily deaf,
So I put myself in the category.
As a 16 year old poet who lives among Baton Rouge’s garbage glued ghettos, my so-called “neighbors” could care less about what I have to say,
Too busy caught up in their hip-hop infused world.
Many middle aged people would misunderstand the message that I am trying to get out, and they would respond by calling me a menace to society.
They want us to get through our young heads that our figurative language doesn’t want to be heard.
They want to hear Langston Hughes talking about a dream can be deferred or or Emily Dickinson with her tattered toilet theories.
Well…
How about they get into witchcraft and have them resurrected because they are dead, and we are here!
The poetry readings that their grandparents used to have are lifeless!
We don’t care if they want to skip going to our open mics,
Because unlike them we keep it freshhhh
On Thursday nights.
We don’t care if they don’t want to hear us preach on urban life, rape, racism, murders, immature teachers, and failed relationships,
And we feel really sorry for those poetists seeing as though they have poetic illiteracy and are close-minded with metaphors.
We are not known as poets to them because we perform in free verse, speak with incorrect grammar, and sport baggy pants.
Ignore the stereotype.
The word “poet” is a title to us.
Turn off your televisions and forget about other conflicts for a while.
This a war of poets vs. poetists.
Our goal is to have them sit down and listen,
Whether they are in agreement or not.
We want to sit down and become a congregation,
Ending this crazy chapter with peace and understanding.
We shall engage in prayer,
And every bowed head will rise and as one we will say…Amen.