I’ve recently been evaluating what I’m dong in this world we call Spoken Word Poetry
For I am simply a writer whose writings end up being things people call poems
My writings are therapy for all the things I go through in life
They are away of exploring my thoughts and feelings
And most times after exploring those thoughts and feelings with paper and pen
I no longer wish to explore them again
And that is why I’m evaluating my place in this world called Spoken Word Poetry
I am finding it difficult to place myself in the same emotional stat I was in when I wrote the poem
So I find that my performance of the poem is lacking
And even though I’ve been attending a workshop to work on this
I still find myself unable to go deep enough inside myself
To revisit my moment of insanity and still remain sane
Which is why you’ve never heard my suicide notes to my family
Or my letter of apology to my children for not always being there for them
Or my letters to God asking for the strength to keep on living
Or my letters to God apologizing for the attempts I’ve made to end my life
It’s easy to get on a mic and talk about my sexual fantasies
For those thoughts and feelings I can handle without tears falling from my eyes
And it’s cool to hear the audience laugh and see them smile
But if you all broke down in tears with me
I don’t think I could handle that
So as I contemplate that, I find myself evaluating my place in this world we call Spoken Word Poetry
And while it may seem as though I should refrain from blessing a mic
I find myself addicted to it
And I find that I sink into depression when I stay away too long
Which leaves me in a situation of Catch 22
For while I find it hard to bare my complete soul while standing on this stage
I can’t seem to stop myself from stepping to an available mic
So what is this writer to do with the pages and pages of poetry
That I constantly carry from venue to venue, mic to mic if I don’t step on a stage
Can I bare my soul, my deepest, darkest feelings
Or do I only reveal those feelings that I consider safe
And if I decide to bare my soul will I be able to revisit those feelings and maintain my hold on my sanity
Or will I again find myself in the dark hole of insanity that I am constantly trying to avoid
Does anyone really want or need to hear that I fear I’ve passed on the incurable disease of depression to
my children
Or that I’ve sat in my garage with the engine running waiting to take my last breath
Or taken my Zoloft with a fifth of Absolute in an attempt to slip from consciousness
That had paramedics trying to revive me from being passed out on the floor of my garage
Does anyone want to know that my mother treats me as an unwanted product of her marriage to a man she
didn’t truly love
Or that Mother’s Day is always a little depressing for me because of this lack of caring from her
And that I’m not the only one who see’s her lack of interest in me or my life
Or that because I feel this way I find it hard to believe that anyone else could love me since my Mother
doesn’t

Does anyone want to know that my father didn’t decide to be a father until he found out he was dying
Which only left him six months to fill a void created by 28 years of forgotten birthdays, school plays,
sports banquets, and graduations
Which wasn’t nearly enough time for him to get know me or my children
Or that because he was an only child, that line of my family no longer exists
Does anyone really want to hear all that
Does it really help to hear someone else explore thoughts and feelings that you have
But have yet to explore or express
Does my therapy help anyone else
Since I’m not sure of what the answers to those questions would be
I find myself evaluating what am I doing in this world we call Spoken Word Poetry
But on the outside chance that my words help release the pain, sadness, anger, and love inside of those
who hear them
I will continue to take the stage and bless a mic wherever there is on available
And hope that my determination to keep living an writing and spitting poetry
Will encourage someone else to keep living and pursuing the dictates of their heart and the dreams of their
mind
So I guess I’ve found my place in this world we call Spoken Word Poetry