What are we? If not vessels of truth and emotion
In rhythm, with rhymes, prose and beats
We are poets whose hands never stopped shaking
Whose vocal chords never stopped speaking
We see, experience and write about the world around us
Our truth, synthesized into prose and meter
You and I are not much different
We write these words on paper
And spit them later
On turntables, digital or analogue instruments
On dance floors or a coffee shop’s patio
At an open mic or a competition
You and I, we’re not not much different
We see the world for the sound and colors it masks
In the emotions we feel, with words only we can speak
Everybody is thinking them—we’re just putting pen to paper
Opening up to anyone that will listen
Vulnerable, our experiences in the open
We can’t afford thin skin
Because these words spill out of us
Like a freestyle rap, and improv jazz
And it’s up to us to relate them, foster them
And find them homes in others hearts
We are vessels of rhythm and prose