Missing you
I'm dying to hit the stage
to grab the mic and just flow
I'm dying to hear the prose
of those poets who made you
stand on your tip toes and stomp your feet
I'm dying to see the faces
gather in familiar places
to converse on some real shyt
I'm dying to be unified and have my
thoughts understood in a world of poets
who believe that we can change behaviors
with the exchanging of ideas
and the sharing of thoughts
peaceful demostrations that speaks
to the hearts of those
who are brave enough to hear
and actively listen, pay attention to
what ohers have the heart to mention
and dare not hold their tongues to speak
Damn, I'm missing da mic
I'm missing the messages
I'm missing my peeps
I'm missing that creative part of me
I'm missing the collective
that the open mic venue had the power to create
I'm missing my brothas and sistas
who live through the logic found in poetry
every day.
Damn, I'm missing you.
Da Lady Mystik©2006
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Used to live 60 miles north of N'Awlins - damn, I miss her, too. Wasn't there when the bitch tore through there, but a lot of what I remember ain't there no more - mostly, her charm - she lies open, exposed, vunerable - have written a lot on Katrina, myself. This one hits below the belt in one loud scream - well done.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.