Fablespinners: Literature's Online Open Mic!

I sat amongst the serious poets
Such serious guise
Thought long into the distant past
When first the Last Poets
Stomped and shouted
Call and response
Firing hip noble venacular
As they hopped about stages
Spawning gangsta rap crap.
Gawd, did they blow it.

I sat amongst the serious poets
Angst filled youths
Reminding me of my own
Lofty future past
Guerilla theater in subway tube
Cast in serious jest
Verbal bandaleros across our chests
Toting AK-47's and little red books
We were fish caught on hooks
of high-borne symbols
Concealing
Failing and failed and lethal, yet appealing
Platitudes
That we learned from books written by winking philosophers
Who knew the truth when they learned what we did not
That royals my be bastards, but royalties are trump
On any picket line where imported water is so more dear than gold
That market bravery replaces cries against chattel slavery.

I sat amongst the serious poets
So filled with piercing insights
Never before verbalized in the last ninety days
Refreshing in a recycled way
Tumbling me into reverie
Of Black, Red, Purple, Green beret crowned days
Battling poverty pimps who still are employed
While the fighter poets of yesteryear lie
Restless in shallow graves or stiff upright as cubicle slaves
Their lives destroyed because

They lived the lies they defended as truths
Ingested the distortions distilled from fools
Regurgitated slogans of coffee shop booths
Kiss assed demigogues whose names are now schools
Self-satisfied smug, like a bitch that just hoes it
'Cuz they sat amongst the serious poets.

# posted by Victor Shanti @ 2:10 AM