Untamed Voices

Addressed to Suite 988

SpokenWordDear Mr. PhD-big-time-Hot-Shot-10-acquittal-all-work-no-play-blood-sucking Lawyer,

The way you wrinkle your nose at me

Implies you’re second guessing

Pre-meditated judgments of my character

“Slam Poetry,” I say, it’s the core of my

Existence

Live—Breath—Speak—Eat—incandescent words

And phrases flowing from the territory of unconscious known

Like the thick-stacked hardback, perfect-spined mahogany books

Piled high sleeping on your shelves

I am nothing but the ideas I can capture

I am judged by my cover,

By you and your executive producer friends—

Scrutinizing beady eyes, your dilated pupils

Fixated in a vast white,

I, stare back, contemplating whether I should

Simply

Say what’s on my mind

Because,

Unlike those thick-stacked, hardback, perfect-spined mahogany books on the shelf

You cannot read me

To your surprise

I. Am. Human.

I. Am. ALIVE.

I can’t be read because, Sir (if I may call you Sir,

If I’m qualified enough in your opinion)

My words can’t be extracted,

Like the cancerous tumor in my breast

My philosophies tend to manifest

Oh no! You see Mr. Mister, my thoughts, my ideas, my

Beliefs, values, hopes, and dreams

Are all tied to me

They’re impossible to analyze, where one is noted and

The other disregarded,

No, we are one

And we are expressed through

Poetry

Only perfectly crafted sentences

And spurts of unkempt knowledge can satiate my hunger

For Life

Only Petrarchan stanzas

And water nymphs will tell you my story—

The magical and the fantastical

My head is a jumble of broken words

And languages that even I cannot begin to comprehend

That I cannot pretend to unhinge

That I am incapable of conveying

To a closed-minded, duly reminded, incredibly narrow-sighted

Asshole, like yourself

The mere explanation of my existence

Is far too vast to be captured or dissected

Within the confines of your judgmental mind

Where purple tears and stars engulfed in cherry pie

Are left to wither away

In their prevalent non-existence

The logic you call intelligence—

The restriction I call ignorance

So, wrinkle your nose at me, if you will

Mr. PhD-big-time-Hot-Shot-10-acquittal-all-work-no-play-blood-sucking Lawyer

Squint your eyes and scrutinize

My passion for composition

My love for the intangible and

Dedication to the unattainable

Falter a smile and move on to the next question

I don’t expect you to understand slam

You’ll only fake empathy

Neither, I don’t expect you to believe in my plight

I only expect you to defend it.

-Jazmin Harling-Gray, Untamed Voices Staff Writer

Image Source: http://www.lambtonshield.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/SpokenWord.jpg

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2 thoughts on “Addressed to Suite 988

  1. That is the greatest work of art I have had the pleasure of reading. It is smooth, sophisticated and intoxicated. What a great writer.

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