Whose Work Is It?: A Response

A few posts ago I mentioned a poem I wrote in response to Talaam Acey's "Go_'s Work," in which he posits the idea that modern poets -- more specifically performance poets, i.e. Slam Poets -- are closer to God's idea of ministers than the modern clergy. As previously stated, please check the poem out for yourself. It can be found on his spoken word album called "Pieces of Change."

At any rate, this is my response to that orginal work. I was going to read it a few weeks ago at the Oasis Cafe Open Mic Night, but they couldn't squeeze me in. Any and all comments/criticism welcome.

I heard today that poets do God’s work
and my itty-bitty poems are the words of creation –
As though my inventions were inspired from the inside of the Creator
and the lines I spew were wired from above –
Those rhymes that come out metaphysical and askew
line up the universe and eclipse the wars of today in a fog.

But let me ask: If the poets of today are prophets
and the words of our mouths come out like nonsense,
then what does that say about God?
Again: If the poets of today are prophets
and the words of our mouths come out like nonsense,
then what does that say about God?

Shouldn’t we be the ones to care for the widow?
We, who proclaim war or peace in the streets,
shouldn’t we be the bringers of hope to this generation,
so that we regenerate the wretched and wrench them out of their degradation?
We, who sleep in poet’s dens and bleed our lives through the poet’s pen –
our voices should be raspy with the effects of affecting humanity –
our feet should be sore with uncountable miles.
We should give hope in tribulation and trial –
our child should be fat with wisdom and lean in ignorance.
But where is the humility of longing for renewed innocence?
If we are doing God’s work,
If we are doing God’s work,
then we should spit for change and not for silver.
And our lines should warm hearts in the dead of winter.
And we should see past hypocrisy to the true believers and
We should rise as one against Caesar.

I said, We should rise as one against Caesar.

But if there are false prophets then there must be false poets,
drawing schismatic lines in the sand
while we hold their overdramatic lines in the palms of our hands and
We should be spitting glory for the widow and the fatherless
Our words should spring to life and cause mental riots till our dying breath.
If we’re on the stage for the sake of personal fame,
and we write these poems for the good of the game,
or the thrill of the chase
And we spit it out to further our name –
if that is me I will take the blame from your hearts
and the shame from your eyes, and by God I will try to change.

Because, If we are doing God’s work,
If we are doing God’s work,
then this goes far beyond profession, I’m professin'
our failed attempts to make clear lack the abstract
lack the eternal shadow behind our minds,
while false poets mine our mayhem with neophyte illusions
and find new ways to spread that age old confusion –
Meanwhile, we posit antique questions and come to masterful conclusions.
We take for granted current destitutions and our thoughts wander
so that we poets are turned to pawns.
I said we poets have been turned into pawns,
fawning over dead metaphors when precise language will educate the masses,
when we should be spitting against classism or Darfur’s state of genocide –
Instead, we return to rhyme in order to hide, so I ask,
Are we poets doing God’s work, or do we merely work for wages?
Are we the smiters of foul kingdoms or another ragged mouthpiece of the ages?

Perhaps we should stand silent in stoic observation,
or shout from the rooftops with fiery consternation –
If we are doing God’s work
We shouldn’t subjugate the masses with a damned sense of attrition.
If we are doing God’s work
We should bend our backs with crosses and take up His holy mission.
If we are doing God’s work.
Are we doing God’s work?

I say we have FAILED to do God’s work.