Dead Poets

books and the written page

some say all great poets are dead

they lie for true poets never die

never

they say all great poets are dead

I say they lie for poets live in the words

are the breath of Godz are the eyes

we close the ears we wont use they

are the soul of the world its heart beating

against the funk our only rhythm in the madness

the truest science we were spoke into being

first there was the word and poets are of the word

we all know that the last will be first and first there

was the word speaking us into being poets dont

die they are ingested quoted sampled remixed

spoken into life again and again poets are alive

in the word they say all great poets are dead

i say they are food they are light they are alive

in every poet who eats and bleeds poems

on crystal stairs bleeding blues drumming like

jazz men hip smooth hopping on riffs like

silver smoke curling from splifs

inhaling dead poets like fog rising over

oceans transforming them into sunrises

epiphanies and mardi gras parades the dead

are always with us great poets sit between us

and them translating remembering for us

because of us are us straining to know where

the wind comes from and how the ocean remembers

to rise towards the moon great poets dont die no poet

who turned verses into bread would be content to

merely be dead poets are bigger than death they

remain on the page in the ear the heart burning in

the brain real poets whose notes are noted quoted

eaten like meat drank down like wine they live

they are the glow after the hint of the tale you know

but cant tell they say that all great poets are dead

I say they lie real poets never die

they are meat & bread

I have come to serve more

About Ayodele Nzinga, MFA, PhD

I create; therefore I am.
This entry was posted in Poetry, spokenword and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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