I am a Poet(Collaboration with Sharmeka)
Before I am anythingI am that poetcaught in the dreams' dwellings as time capsules a floatfor I am the daughter of poet's past, and poet's futureI am the black word on a pagethe Bic pen that writesthe ink that flowsBefore I am anythingI am a poetI am the continuationof 2002 words under the seathe secrets that bear inside of methe meterthe rhyme and similethe writers block and poetic exercises that unlockunveiling the subliminal message of my dyslexic lifeBefore I was anything,I was a poetI discovered away to communicate, with the deaf earand people began to listen to my heartbeat,the flapping of lips, as words poured out like gravy because I could bend their minds any way that I wantedbecause I had the power of speakingthe power to conjure up songs, possessed by my poetic blood I couldn't keep quietI couldn't bite my tongueBefore I was anything,I was that poettimes when my life shifted toward another skill instead of my giftwhen amateur criticisms of other poets born like me, through blocks in my way, silenced the many voices in my one track mindI thought I wouldn’t ring, againthere were momentswhen I was unable to write it down the things I knew I couldthat some others wish they couldBefore I was anything, I was the poetof power what seem like for centuriesand then a great light came and glared, upon my closed eyesmy flapping blank pagesand I realized I needed to put it all downeverything the world need to hear and wouldn't hearstill that was enough, until one dayI changed a friend’s life with one piece of adviceinspired my child to come to this worldinspired my husband to love me foreverInspired Because….Before I am anythingI am a poetbehold what I mothered for eleven yearsthe open storybook of my lifein the pursuit of my identitywhat isn’t said that should be saidthe daily experiencehaunted by the bleeding heart of imaginingsthe witness of meof timeit is my centerpieceand when I am withoutI am nothing but a starving poet Before I was anythingI was a poet I retrieved my voice and visions and realized I was still me that I had to be meThe person who could flex english languageuntil any one speak itand anyone could read itI had to be that personbecause before I was a anything I was a poetOne of many voices sight, sound, andscripturesWritten June 2001 Written November 22nd, 2001 © on Nov 22 2001 02:54 PM PST 0 • 10
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"Before I am anythingI am that poetcaught in the dreams' dwellings as time capsules a floatfor I am the daughter of poet's past, and poet's futureI am the black word on a pagethe Bic pen that writesthe ink that flowsBefore I am anythingI am a poetI am the continuationof 2002 words under the seathe secrets that bear inside of methe meterthe rhyme and similethe writers block and poetic exercises that unlockunveiling the subliminal message of my dyslexic lifeBefore I was anything,I was a poetI discovered away to communicate, with the deaf earand people began to listen to my heartbeat,the flapping of lips, as words poured out like gravy because I could bend their minds any way that I wantedbecause I had the power of speakingthe power to conjure up songs, possessed by my poetic blood I couldn't keep quietI couldn't bite my tongueBefore I was anything,I was that poettimes when my life shifted toward another skill instead of my giftwhen amateur criticisms of other poets born like me, through blocks in my way, silenced the many voices in my one track mindI thought I wouldn’t ring, againthere were momentswhen I was unable to write it down the things I knew I couldthat some others wish they couldBefore I was anything, I was the poetof power what seem like for centuriesand then a great light came and glared, upon my closed eyesmy flapping blank pagesand I realized I needed to put it all downeverything the world need to hear and wouldn't hearstill that was enough, until one dayI changed a friend’s life with one piece of adviceinspired my child to come to this worldinspired my husband to love me foreverInspired Because….Before I am anythingI am a poetbehold what I mothered for eleven yearsthe open storybook of my lifein the pursuit of my identitywhat isn’t said that should be saidthe daily experiencehaunted by the bleeding heart of imaginingsthe witness of meof timeit is my centerpieceand when I am withoutI am nothing but a starving poet Before I was anythingI was a poet I retrieved my voice and visions and realized I was still me that I had to be meThe person who could flex english languageuntil any one speak itand anyone could read itI had to be that personbecause before I was a anything I was a poetOne of many voices sight, sound, andscripturesWritten June 2001..."