I'M Not A Poet Poem by BiggRich Shuping

They say mine are poetic words
That inspire them to view life differently
A different perspective they call it
Paragraphs enthused with life's own energy
To move a nation in synergy
But these words are not mine
I borrowed them from mum lips in tombs
Speaking in loud silence like babies in wombs
And as I listen...
I sharpen my pen with precision
Preparing for battle
For with my pen, this paper I'm going to wound

Verbatim I repeat what the ghosts are telling me
So don't clap your hands
For these words are not mine
I borrowed them from tears in their eyes
Abandoning their wells
To scrible messages of sorrow on their cheeks
So when I speak
I'm just an object of their subject
A mouthpiece of their silent speach, nothing more
When I speak it's a package I deliver
A duty I'm given to as a messanger

So don't clap your hands
For these words are not mine
I had them stolen from tongues
Frozen in their mouths
To speak on their behalf
When I speak...
It's their words I utter
Their pain I whisper
Their message I deliver
I'm not a poet... They are