Notes from the Underground....The poet

This is one of my piece's, I hope you enjoy.

The Poet
by Kaos Blac




We all snap and clap our hands for the poet.

For your word play and rhythmic rhythm. The way the words rock to and fore from your lips.

We all snap and clap but are we really listening. Are we digesting your words.

Or are we just looking real, a earthly like, with a fake mentality. Are we granola crunching dread heads with clinched fist raised to the air. Are we sleek turtle neck wearing weirdos with weirder hair shows. Are we the art school world traveler, culture connoisseur.

Or are we the poet pouring out our hearts once more. In rhyme 3/4 times. Accursed verse hiding whats inside. Because when you let it out all you get are snaps, claps, a bongo if you lucky.

Who are we to judge you poet. We aren't even listening just doing our part - snapping our part to your part of the performance. Or are you even that deep are you like we?

Are you just the hip cat with the dreamy spacey stare or the girl with hips that always seem to bear, a poem cause she got them metaphors quickly about how her loves like insert food item here.

Who are we in this medium of poetry oh poet to true to the game poet we wish we could hear what ya saying but im just were just here to snap and clap.

Maybe on day well be the poet and say hey fuck this shit I'm going home and not mean sum metaphysical mumbo jumbo. But mean that fuck it I'm tired of the snaps and claps. I write for me and for me to be heard, cause thats how I...want to be heard if I could of been heard.