Flawless Poetry Slam Entry:

 The Self-Respecting Light

Written by Jinapher J. Hoffman

 

 

What demands self-respect?

Madam, Mrs., Sir, Sire?

Opinionated, Egotistical, Absorbent, Colorful, Shaded?

Wrong Way, Right Path, Literal Meaning, Figurative Thought?

Hardship, Abandonment, Self-Righteousness, Persuasive?

What. Demands. Self-Respect.

 

Confidence that beams brighter than the sun?

Names with money cocked by the big gun?

Words spoken louder than the mice in the corner?

Hardship placed on the very back burner?

 

Fire and Gold,

Blood running cold,

Superficial, Flawless, Perfect--Respect.

 

These are lies lying within a protective glass sphere,

Beautiful, Dauntless, Elegant in an unsatisfying mirror,

Unbreakable by their envious connection between men and women

And ME, bound by the ugly, ticking time-bomb clock,

Causing Heart, Courage, Bravery, and Imperfect Shock 

To drain down the funnel of a sorrowful exit-way. 

 

This, we do not remember, yet it runs our lives,

A selfish demand, for selfish respect until the day the mouse dies.

We walk on flames-- Gold and Green and Silver,

Praying to a God of white to cancel where mice were to be delivered.

Handsome, Beautiful, faces beyond recognition,

Is this the self-respect we innerly insert into the cars ignition?

We drive, and we have drive, but the key can easily be taken out.

This, we do remember, because of ones final shout,

 

“Tall, thin, flat, round, pale, freckled, red, blonde,

Reflections mirrored back in a lie telling pond!

Careful embraces and shattered reunions,

Mistakes pursued by every one of a Lying victim!”

 

“Look beyond the mirror!

Look beyond the Earth shattering, mind cramming, awe-striking terror!

It’s there in our chests, 

locked to defend value beyond Gold, Green, and Silver,

Trembling, and Shaking, and Burrowing deeper,

Pumping the blood in our veins,

focusing our eyes on the Summers and the Rains.”

 

“There’s our self-respect,” The Demand-er would answer,

“hidden under the pile of muck,

unheard by years of being piled onto our garbage trucks.

But, it’s there.

It’s there.

It’s always been right there,

And we are losing our Sight, Taste, and Sound

For what exactly is right.”

 

And we burrow away from the Demand-er’s Voice,

Saying, “Unfair, Unjust...”

UNSATISFIED.

We cram into unbreathable spaces,

And hide in uncommon places,

All with smiles on our faces,

While the Mourners watch dark-cloaked cases.

 

What for? These FLAWLESS--SUPERFICIAL lies?

Break down the barrier, and see the right.

Because, it’s there.

It’s there.

It’s always been right there,

And we are losing so much,

Rather than`breaking free of the lying touch.

 

“Break the spell! Wash your face!

You can trade in your bags of Gold, Green, and Silver

For an outline, a map, a trace

Of a small peek, a small sliver

Of an opening door,

Chains thrown away,

Where blood pumps to pour

Into veins to make you see, make you stay

With ME

In the right, 

The Self-Respecting Light.”