Nic Custer

Rookie (May 1,1988- / Flint, Michigan, USA)

A Introduction: - Poem by Nic Custer

Don't call this spoken word, mindless rap or disembodied poetry.
Because its nothing more than
sixteen lines of unclassifiable honesty.
It's griot storytelling and each syllable is a song, each sound is a legend in my progression from word to phrase.
It's troubadour sheet music as each pause or exclamation is another note on the measure of this story's pleasure.
These words are a bombing graffiti tag written a million times over,
each repetitious line spelling out something new, as it defaces your preconceptions with the loop (and the loop and the loop) and stroke of my performance.
It's the newspaper headline, where the main idea is in bold print at the top, yet you waste time reading through the details.
This is Camus' ideas, in action, because its all so absurd and Hemingway's brevity, in not so many words.
It's a yawn; I'm passing on by word of mouth
and a tsunami, drowning out
the rest of the world
This is a fable about truth, giving life to the page to give them depth and letting thoughts travel on the breath to say
that this is anything and everything
other than what you take it to be.

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, April 8, 2008

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