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Expression

aijalon
aijalon Members Posts: 919
edited March 2011 in Waiting To Exhale
Often interrogated about the genesis of my creative spark; I find it necessary to opine on subject matter best left in hibernation.

I liken “expression” to a bowel movement; a deed beyond our control.
Useless definitions serve but to minimize the severity of the slow demise of promise yet to be fulfilled.

🤬 YOU AND YOUR LABELS;
“Poetry; Spoken Word; Art.”

Seeking to make sense of the senseless those who would all too quickly step to the fore make strategic use of umbrellas whilst the weak of mind seek shade.

🤬 YOU AND YOUR NEED to be noticed.

Expression in its truest and only form exists outside of the realms of any human creation. In our haste to be “affirmed” we compromise the very thing which defines human existence.

Ecstatic at having found a place from which you can now be the judge and jury, you have created your exclusive societies.
Dimly lit rooms where members claiming to have “found themselves” speak in code words about a society from which they have been outcast.

SO WHAT IF YOU LIKE 🤬 ?
Is that what makes you unique? The fact that you share the sexual preference of a great minority?
Is the splendor of anther man’s touch against your cheek that which makes you special?

The dress code is laughable. Scarves caress the voice boxes of “freedom fighters.” Ernesto “Che” Guevara T-shirts have become all too commonplace. Dreadlocks and Afros are symbols of a new found freedom.
The language is reprehensible. A diction which originates in dark rooms where sobbing is barely audible. Pursed lips reveal a stubborn resolve; promises to repay in kind those who reminded you of the person in the mirror.

“WOE IS MY PEOPLE.” Is the rallying cry.
Hand claps echo within the carcass from which you spew redundant rhetoric.

I sit atop a throne of pristine porcelain; mindless, numb, void of any intention.
I EXPRESS.
Organic matter flows from a place absconded and beyond retrieval.
No eye can behold; no tongue can mention the glory that is expression.

I rage at the mention of your pitiful attempts to construct a parameter from which you insist that I function.

Laughable are your exploits.
Evangelistic words surround the captives; they are bewildered at the realization that their potion has vanished.

Financial gain… Simple Gratification…A moment of belonging…..
Whatever the reason, it matters not.
Go on great poet… Rap on Great Rapper…Serenade us with a melodic rendition of your special gift.

In those moments wherein you carefully construct impressive alliterations………………. I EXPRESS…………………….