I wanna be a poet

Tue, 10/01/2013 - 20:47 -- Alonyia

I've always wanted to be a poet

Sticks and stones may break my bones

But i knew  if I could drop nines with my rhymes

Then maybe their colored phrases wouldn’t sting me in the hallway maybe

I could break necks with my articulation and not the curves i left imprinted in every conversation maybe

They could remember me for what i say and  not my sway maybe

One day my thickness won’t be a sickness and I’ll just infect the minds of my victims with metaphors that'll stop the heartbeat with the whisper of long-lost memories

MAYBE...just maybe, they'll be too distracted detangling the verbal massacre i left at the edge of their consciousness to watch me while i walk away

I’ve ALWAYS wanted to be a poet!

Weaving melodies with scarred hands

Drawing symphonies with a bruised tongue, laying platforms for a future I never knew existed before I was a poet!

These blank pages are screaming at me because the words I have wanted to say has never left my lips

So my words bleed red with unrecognized potential to be heard, to be known, like a real live poet.

I know it’s too much to ask, but just once I wanna reach out into a crowd and thread that silver lining into echoes of my own creation

I wanna push start on every backwoods girl tying her hands with her own doubts

On every thugaboo too scared to show the world the gold he hides behind his eyelids

I wanna raise the bar for every smirk, every grin, every sidelong glance, every doubt, every fear, and every person that’s kept us seated in our own heaarts

I wanna break rules and redefine the norm over and over again

I wanna draw the line and cross it constantly until my own body grows weary of restricting itself

I want to press, dig, and kill every voice but my own until i can scream and shout my deepest joys and I die of diabetes from sweet victories

I want to be a poet

I would break silence into unrecognizable fragments until no autopsy could decipher what in the world has gotten into me

I would crush expectations and seize the hell out of that day if i were a poet!

Im not saying I'd be the best

But I would leave chalked outlines and bloodstains on every stage I stepped

From pouring out a heart with no more room to breathe and cleaning skeletons from my own closet

I've always wanted to be a poet

I just never knew what to say

I don’t possess the umph to send masses into a stuper

So Ill just sit

And wait

Until I can find the words



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