The Spirit Poet's Microphone

It is not an audible gramophone Or a platform of agitated psychics It does not dish out psychedelic effects Or undress the nudity of the poor or vulnerable It does not judge or pour scorn among the weak and defeated The Spirit Poet's microphone is as silent as a thought Clearly submerged in the intricate world of consciousness The Spirit Poet speaks the language of the soul It's not the sound of life that he listens to It's the sound of existence Embedded in the Silence within The Spirit Poet's microphone is not self-aggrandizing The Spirit Poet's microphone is not buried in self-hate But protrudes beyond man-made philosophies Into the realm of nothingness It's here where the Spirit Poet has built a nest A place to observe the house of humanity And consecrate the heart of man (woman) It's not the juicy bits and pieces of life That interests him/her It's the state of being of human beings The poverty or the injustices The smile or the laughter The tears or blanket of sorrow It's the contents of the heart that he listens to Closely weaving a song or a poem Either to console or to declare victory The Spirit Poet's Microphone speaks of truth Not tainted by the current hullaballoo The Spirit Poet dances to the sacred rhythm That brings the body, mind and soul to a standstill It's this phenomenon that encapsulates him Enveloping him in a state of nothingness ©