The Prophetic Psychotic

What makes the poet speak the words,

that others want to hear?

Is it spoken out of love,

or is it spoken out of fear?

Is it envy turned inward,

or rage set loose,

or courage that brings the poet forward,

to speak the words she choose?

Is he a rising prophet predicting doom,

or trying to convey some truth,

or is she psychotic you presume,

expelling litanies of her youth?



What makes the poet speak the words,

that others want to hear?

Is it because they were born to say things,

others simply can't?

Or because when they speak they say it smooth,

while others merely rant,

or is it because they speak their truths,

in rhyme, and prose and chant,

then walk away, and leave you pondering their parlance?




What makes the poet speak the words,

that others want to hear?

and their poetic prophecy become psalms,

never-ending, in your ear,

like a psychotic syntax, their voices clear,

their stories told, their truths to fear,

The poet is a prophet,

whose spirit waste no time,

but reincarnates into another psychotic,

and lives again to rhyme.


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