The word is supposed to be heard


I think the two things I like the most about spoken word poetry is its accessibility and its continuity.

Poetry, as a means to memorize large chunks of information stretches back over 5,000 years, and was often used by oral cultures to preserve their stories such as the Odyssey or the Epic of Gilgamesh. Then there is the fact that anyone, anywhere, even in the harshest of conditions, can compose poetry.

The word is supposed to be heard 

The word is supposed to be heard,

Not read in silence,

But spoken with love, passion, violence

Because Verse is living history,

The first mystery,

For when the world was young

And songs was as yet unsung

There was poetry,

And this was how we remembered

The deeds of our kin

And this was how we recalled

Our love ‘s first kiss

And this was how we carried

The souls of our dead to bliss

Borne up on a sea of verse

Because in the beginning was the word

And the word was thought, giving form in voiceto

Love, hate, ignorance, choice,

Poetry was there at the start,

It’s at the heart of who we are

Because we are hard wired to rhyme,

To transcend time and space, culture and race

Through the lyrics of our verse

For better or worse, we are creatures of rhytmn and beat

From when our ancestors sat around the fire, the meat dripping on the spit

The first free styler spat out the tale of the hunt and chase,

Of how warriors looked into the face of death to feed the tribe

And through the countless centuries, we too feel the vibe

Of shared experience, nothing less than the heartbeat of what it is to be us, we

Can see back into what has been before, know heroes who are no more,

Feel ancient hurts as if they were red and raw,

From Troy to Rome to Timbuktu and Cairo,

There is no place we cannot go through measured beats

It allow us to the feat of etching thought in memory

And even those who have lost their liberty

Those banned from writing

Those caught up in fighting

Slavery, oppression, the machinations of the man,

When you have nothing, you make do with what you can

And what you will always have is your tongue and mind

So across our kind, raise up you voice, be united in this universe

Of living, breathing, beating verse.

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