August

What is it to be a poet? 

But to spill ones guts?

I do it in written form and keep my mouth shut.

For whose to say that this is how ill feel on the morrow?

Perceptions change, and to it are emotions tethered.

I was once a child but I've left childish things behind. 

But I won't delete those poems of old.

You might ask why.

I reply why not?

You see a year is both short and long at the same time, howbeit we are condemned on the basis of time. 

I dont relish in the fact that the youth do not know, for it was ingrained in me that I didn't know either, until I submitted to time and waited for it to reveal it's secrets.

I always found it funny how people can talk so much and say so little. 

Thickening the atmosphere with thousands of words.

Words are electricity and they have positive and negatives charges, but my receptors have become dull, because I find that people dont know what they're saying, most speak reflexively to avoid the silence, like the silence kills, when really it enables your words ill chosen or otherwise to permeate the air, seeking to influence another's brain to match it.

So I'll write, because the written form surpasses speech, in this day and age.

To think is seen as a rebellious act, to choose your words before speaking them. People say be yourself, but what they're really saying is be unhinged, disregard self control and let your base desires come out to play. So dont be yourself men, be a gentleman, and for the women, be a lady. Because the road is narrow and few there be that find the gate at the end thereof.

There isn't a magical day where you suddenly wake up and realize you've been living a lie and you just needed to tap into your authentic self, that is a myth. There are high energy people and low energy people and people in the middle, and no one stays one all their life, because life is dynamic and our environments play a role each day, but my mentality is up to me, because I'm not a child. I possess the liberties of adulthood to reflect and meditate and choose how I respond to life and it's many challenges. 

People say things they dont mean everyday because they dont take a moment to be with the silence. When silent ones speak it holds weight because it was crafted, it wasn't just regurgitated from the void of the wicked heart.

 

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redbrick's picture

Your poem pulses with quiet

Your poem pulses with quiet defiance and introspective grace; it’s not just verse, it’s a manifesto for thoughtful living in a world that prizes noise over nuance. The metaphor of words as electricity, charged and volatile, is brilliant, and your reflections on silence as a space for meaning rather than fear feel like a call to arms for the contemplative. You’ve made poetry feel like resistance, and writing a deliberate act of self-respect. Thank you for crafting something that doesn’t just speak, it resonates.


here is poetry that doesn't always conform

galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver