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
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