A Contradiction in Confliction
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Autoplay OFF  •  a year ago
Poetry is in me,
but it only leaves,
after my heart learned to scream.

A Contradiction in Confliction

by Caroline Prank

I am a poet, with words under my arm.

I'm pacing the roof of my mouth, repeating rhymes robotically. Maybe it's time you lost the beat, and watch me kick it and flip it, till it's under my seat.

See me,

contrasting complex connotations confidently. Turning wives tales, to gross sales. I am only held back by my inability to think or when my pen is out of ink.

I am a poet, but I don't do slam.

I can't approach an audience audibly, without rendering myself to abnormality.

I don't have natural movements.

My body is rigged, seemingly tied up for your amusement.

People will laugh and shake their heads,

“Why is she up there, if she can't handle it?” They tell you there's no punishment for attempts, but truth only seems to attract its opposite.

But, I see where they're coming from,

and maybe I should get going, Because Raising my voice, raises my neves. If you feel the stage shaking, it isn't my energy, it's my fucking anxiety.

I wasn't made to present my past on a silver platter,

when it is only deserving of paper plates. I have only one story, and I tell it a thousand times. How many rhymes can you make, before it feels out of line?

I ask myself every nightmare,

if I made the right choice. If choosing to pull up all the dirt, and turn it over into words, helps me move on.

Is this even a job, willing to accept me?

Am I still credible, considering skin color and genitals? Because I know, If I had tired writing this a few decades ago, I might've had to write some different letters on that header.

A pen name.

I am a poet, yet I don't do slam.

Not that political. Not that potent. Not that kind of poet.

I'm told this every day,

and yet I choose to stumble and stutter this way, because if I tell myself there's a torture in trying I will have to live knowing, I still won't be worth my silence.

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a year ago
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a year ago
Dear past me,
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a year ago
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a year agoReply
@Housecat thank you so much!! I'm so glad you liked it!!

HousecatBronze CommaA small kitten in a big world
a year agoReply
I'm in love with this poem and it's abrasive truths felt by you.

a year agoReply
@bernardtwindwil ahh your comments always make me so happy!! Thank you so much! This is actually one of the first slam poems I've ever written and I was extremely proud of the result!

bernardtwindwilGold CommaGranddad & story teller, tomthepo8.com
a year agoReply
This is indeed a scream of your self-purpose. You came out swinging and established your presence in verse. This is a powerful and dynamic statement. Thank you for sharing it. I am sure that you are continuing to kick ass and take names.

lentisSilver CommaIf there's food, there's me
a year agoReply
aww :)