Linda Gabriel
Mad Slam but not war
We bombard minds, souls, hearts and spirits with words,
Verses ricochet back to us and we make them bomb
Negative thoughts, destroying yet constructing legacies,
Our rhymes tag walls, telling our stories in graffiti
Of broken down streets, slums, imprisoned minds and chained souls
We weave stanzas that birth brave fighters,
Who conquer world stages, battles, podiums
We beat box therapeutic beats that soothe and mend broken communities
We channel our anger and energies into slams
Turning them mad yet it’s not war
We spend countless sleepless nights
Watching our pens get intimate with their papers
Back to back
Igniting flames
Sparking fires, only we can extinguish
One stain the other with blue, red, black ink
Tattooing flesh on naked bones
Breathing life into dying souls
Leaving behind ashes of some divine love making
As we produce poems that you are listening to
So poet
Tend ye to the suffering
And the anguish of innocents
And be the mind that binds all pain
Clearing in twain the wolves that prey
Upon the world’s lost wandering lambs
Tend ye to my brother’s young
And you shall liberate this plane
Of thought that’s mired in myopic greed
Unfold the waves of selfishness
Expose the tyrants dressed as sheep
Poet your work is the world
Your mind is the pen
Your muse is the ink
And your source is the world’s suffering
Conjoin yourself to this suffering
And you shall awaken the muse
Painting master strokes of art
Whilst healing with your social heart
Remain akin to the pulse of pain
And breathe life into your legacy
By helping our fellow travellers
We help ourselves in this journey
Of exploration, liberation and understanding
Word