Spoken Word Killed the Poet

You used to write heart wrenching
Narratives on the complexities of life
Ego well grounded while you
Gave yourself and others the gift of flight

On hot summer days your gift
Served as a cool breeze
Allowing all to bask in the heavens
Bouncing on syllables
Before sliding down silky similes

But spoken word killed the poet

It’s no longer about the message
As it is about the rhyme
It’s not about creating a connection
As it is about that ovation after that killer line
It’s not about uplifting your fellow man
As it is about winning a poetry slam

That’s it…you’ve become a performer
Spoken word killed the writer in you.

I’ll admit that you are the best
Not sure when it became a popularity contest
Maybe it always was and I was naive
But I think I’m going to take some time off
Before I get infected with the disease

Spoken word is killing all the poets

Lay You Down

Now I lay you down on sheets of anticipation
Breath bated, waiting to explode
Tastes of sweet salvation found in tender kisses
Allows us to hold each other tightly even while letting go
Staring into the windows of heaven
We utter precious prayers ardently wrapped in moans
Sharing pieces of ourselves that we were previously too afraid to show
We listen to inhibitions crackle as we bask in passion’s glow

The Day the Butterflies Died

The day the butterflies died no one cried.
There was no funeral. No procession.
No one wrote a eulogy or spoke of life lessons.
No one spoke of wasted youth or love taken for granted.
The music stopped without warning
causing even the most devout believers
to join the disenchanted.

She Likes Her Fiction

She likes her fiction
Lightly seasoned with facts
Smacked his face
Not to increase friction
But for the pause of dramatic effect

She likes his temper
Heated but never burned
Ego is melted in her swelter
He learns to simmer down

She likes the struggle
With sips of power play
While holding pieces of his puzzle
Turns yesterday into today

She likes to bring up past failures
His knees buckle and he staggers
Under the weight of added pressure

She likes to see stars
Aggravated by instigation
Until he takes her on a trip
to the constellations
Passing Venus and Mars

Above all, she loves the victim
Told the cops. “Wait…I hit him.”
So he could be set free
She likes the game
To be played in public
For all the world to see

I am a liar

I am a liar
I am a cheat
I am the enemy
Baby faced bandit
Pirating passion's seas
Navigating through treasures
The prince of all thieves
Hunter in the concrete jungle
Preying on femininity
I am the cause
I am the cure
Of heartache
Wolf cloaked in Trojans
The reason sex is never safe
I am your weakness
I am your strength
The one you love to hate
I am the question
I am the answer
The one you feel compelled to debate
Until I deflect your aggression
Like a skilled matador
Rejecting your affection
Until heart is heard hitting floor
Replacing the sound of
"I love you more"
The deletion recognized
Your eyes lose their fire
Until I give you what you want
But you know that I am a liar

Copyright Bilal Berthony 2009