Poem: The Spirit Poet’s Microphone

It is not an audible gramophone

Or a platform of agitated psychics

It does not dish out psychedelic effects

Or undress the nudity of the poor or vulnerable

It does not judge or pour scorn among the weak and defeated

The Spirit Poet’s microphone is as silent as a thought

Clearly submerged in the intricate world of consciousness

The Spirit Poet speaks the language of the soul

It’s not the sound of life that he listens to

It’s the sound of existence

Embedded in the Silence within

The Spirit Poet’s microphone is not self-aggrandizing

The Spirit Poet’s microphone is not buried in self-hate

But protrudes beyond man-made philosophies

Into the realm of nothingness

It’s here where the Spirit Poet has built a nest

A place to observe the house of humanity

And consecrate the heart of man (woman)

It’s not the juicy bits and pieces of life

That interests him/her

It’s the state of being of human beings

The poverty or the injustices

The smile or the laughter

The tears or blanket of sorrow

It’s the contents of the heart that he listens to

Closely weaving a song or a poem

Either to console or to declare victory

The Spirit Poet’s Microphone speaks of truth

Not tainted by the current hullaballoo

The Spirit Poet dances to the sacred rhythm

That brings the body, mind and soul to a standstill

It’s this phenomenon that encapsulates him

Enveloping him in a state of nothingness

©Kenneth Maswabi