I listen to this spoken word
spill from the lips
of a man of my craft
Words from a heart
written with a pen
probably not much different
than my own
heart
To me it doesn't matter that they're
coming from a stranger
I know they've awakened
in me a sleeping dreamer
Unlike him, I'm accustomed to
structure, flow and scheme
I don't talk tough
or pretend to be the perfect girl
But we both speak our hearts
put it out there in ink
paper, pages, paper bags
websites, books, cd's
A poet writes and speaks
their own heart
and ends up saying
the thing on everyone's
(or at least one's)
mind.
August 31, 2009
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