decacsinc

“The world is poetry. Everything that exists in it, on it, under it, over it or around it can be reduced to neat lines of language. You can even make the lines uneven if you don’t like neat. The words need not necessarily be in lines. You may prefer to count syllables or just write words that have a balance or beauty when written together. I have heard it said that poetry begins in the bowels of man. I once wrote that must be the reason some of it really stinks. Some of my own poetry was included in that statement. I like to write rhyme, personally. Yes, I know there are only several words that rhyme with love. I learned that when I was about eleven, around the same time I learned love sucks. I have no need to rhyme the word with anything; I have come to the conclusion there is neither rhyme nor reason to match the phenomenon of human love. I may write about the loss or lack or resulting nightmares of it, but you can shove love.

The world is full of poets. From bathroom stalls to plaques on walls, you can find it everywhere. Everyone must be a poet. Some poets write only to relieve boredom, as they empty their bowels of both turds and words. The only difference between any poets is the passion which they feel for the art, if it can be called that anymore. When I think of art, I picture galleries, paint, festivals and auctions. Poetry makes me think of quiet times pondering the human experience. Sometimes the words are angry and loud, pouring onto the page in a wild torrent of rage. Other times they are gentle and more like a soft rain, helping flowers to grow. There is a need in me to scribble clever words on paper, pound sarcastical sense out of inane, insane humanity on a keyboard, describe things which it sometimes seems only I am able to see in the sky or on a fence or in a pool of water. It always makes me wonder, looking at other human beings watching clouds or birds, whether they are mentally writing poetry. I do it all the time. Everything I see, think, feel, smell, touch and hear has poetry written all over it. There is inspiration in rocks, rust, nails and dust. It’s silly, don’t you think, for a grown man to wander around this world with a rhyme on the tip of his tongue which will never be spoken, only relegated to the back of the mind for later discernment? Even when written, most will usually be read only by me, so why bother to scribble it on paper? It is silly, yet I cannot forestall the inevitability of writing it or feeling it.”

So to answer your question, “Everything makes a poet”.

Antwian M. Crawford, Founder

The Underground Poet’s Society, Inc.

For the full narrative, links and videos please check out my blog

Nana’s Rants On Things From A-Z  http://nanas-rants.blogspot.com

Think Outside the Box On Substack: https://substack.com/@topicsfromatoz

Telegram: https://t.me/thinkoutsidethebox705

Nana Baakan, Metaphysician: http://www.metaphysical-nana.com

The “Voices of Africa” Choral & Percussion Ensemble: http://www.voicesofafrica.net

DECACS, Inc. http://www.decacs-inc.com

Rumble: https://rumble.com/user/nanabaakan

Odysee: https://odysee.com/@nanabaakan:3

BitChute: https://www.bitchute.com/channel/nanabaakan/

https://www.bitchute.com/channel/nana-the-metaphysician/

Twitter: http://twitter.com/nanabaakan

Instagram: http://www.instagram.com/nanabaakan

Subscribe Video: https://pixabay.com/users/imotivation-12701738/

Support My Work, it would be greatly appreciated. Send a donation:

PayPal: http://www.paypal.me/nanabaakan

Cashapp: $nanabaakan705

Currently, my newsletter Is free to read and share. I am not offering subscriptions just yet but please feel free to donate as much as you care to, it will be greatly appreciated.

https://www.paypal.com/donate/?hosted_button_id=QC2YGPR2LJ864