This poem, spoken word or written word, call it whatever wasn’t written by me. It was written by a very good friend of mine MICHELLE DIBIA. She buzzed me that she had a poem and I’m like just send it in. I read it today and the first thing that gets to my mind is this is definitely going out there. The key thing that is dominant in this poem is TRUTH. So much truth in one peace. I hope this inspires someone out there and makes the scale to fall off someone’s eyes because this is something I’ll keep reading over and over again every now and then just to keep me in check.
I am… The one that hurts, the deceit you ; call creativity, the gall you call wine,
the pain you call a kiss, the regret that haunt; the loneliness disguised as solitude, the madness you call
wisdom, the sin you call trend, the blockade, the barrier ;the obstacle you call a standard, the nakedness you call
fashion, the sorrow concealed with a manneiquin smile ; the myopia you call an opinion, the poverty you accept as
contentment, the slavery you see as commitment, the obsession you call devotion.
I am the insult you call criticism, the hyprocrisy praised as religion, the destruction embraced as civilization, the pretense you deem a reality,
the lust you honour as love, the naïvety you see as innocence, the demons you have given the names: post traumatic stress,
schizophrenia, O. C. D. ; the manipulation you say is persuasion, the theft
you describe as ‘finders keepers’, the assassination you call ‘cleaning up’, the noise you sway to and say it’s music.
I am the vanity impersonating beauty, the cruelty veiling strictness, the stubbornness suppressing strong will,
the suicide you call bravery, the cowardice you call timidity, the starvation you call a diet, the shackels
you endure as marriage, you are not married, just marred, take away the ‘i’ that gave you identification because your face is battered and your body bruised by the person that said “for better for worse”.
I am the darkness you call illumination, the hallucination you call vision, the stagger you call
balance, the inner turmoil you bask in and call secrets, the fear you call silence, the seduction you call a ‘harmless flirt’,
the god complex you call power, the inferiority complex you call modesty.
I am the crudity you call tradition, the sluggishness you call meticulousness the fog you call clarity, the dirty game you call politics,
the traitor you call a confidant,the parasite you call a lover,
the ditch you call a path…
The suffocation you call relief, the malady you call a remedy, the foolishness you call ignorance, the envy you call admiration, the haughtiness you call ego, the counterfeit you call prototype, the addiction you call consistency, the Photoshop touchup you call ‘perfection’.
the I’s your eyes cannot see. Your tongue that pours forth the diplomacy dipped and laced with poison that lacks an antidote.
I hang around and watch you hang from the hangman’s noose.
I will do your bidding but on that day, the Son will use me. He will call your gospel lies and your work, iniquity.
I AM DENIAL.