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|Poet In A Poor Country. Spoken Word Poetry by itsyoms: 5:49am On Feb 22|
Been A Poet In A Poor Country. 3rd World Patriots
Where am from, there is a lot of drama, no tushed environment no, cyclorama
You want to hear a beautiful tale of how events came together to make me an orator, I know you want me to give you a detail accounts, which I don't have. Which is one of a million things I don't have
But what I have is a little tale, of a poor child, a poet in a poor country.
I wake up each morning feeling emotionally dry & drained, the inevitable results of pain, for my environment is devoid of anything beautiful. I have slept & woken up in stack poverty for many years, am forced to learn the speech patterns of cockroaches. Each night my eyes greets the antennas' of cockroaches between the antennas leaning on my black & white TV screen. I hope this cockroaches can't hear my prayers, last night I didn't die of hunger strike so I pray they die, let me not die of the infection cockroaches spread on the tiles. Thrice i heard my neighbors child cry, last night, i dare not ask why, I know the solution to that cry is money. Money! Money is one commodity, a far cry. I guess, the white man call it symbiosis, my relationship with those cockroaches, but I call it poverty, poverty of the abandonment of fulfilment, poverty of the abandonment of need, poverty of the abandonment of want, poverty of basic things like clean water and shelter over my head. Been a poet in a poor country is the most difficult things, no peace, no stage, no audience and nobody to clap, so you have to clap for yourself.
There is enough to write about, enough to speak about, but there is no freedom of speech, a lot of people took this route but didn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel so they quit. Ideas die, inspirations die, hopes die, visions die and people die of little sicknesses like malaria. But for my vision not to die, I just find every way possible, to take little steps just to keep going. Keep going!!
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