I realized something as the cameraman left the set
An older man, with not a lot left,
A skeptic of sorts, who missed breakfast
But why he said, what he said
I get but don’t get.

I imagine he had the best intentions
After he left I’m still thinking about what he said
And why he said it.
And I think what he said he meant it, but maybe in a different way
As the poet got off the stage,
The poet said respect the game, and respect the age.
Read and write poetry for its healing vibes, to heal communities
To Change our lives,
And what I think the camera man meant to say in response
Was to remind us to show respect to each and everyone
And I get that,
Because the right leg and the left leg
Walk the same body
And we are all poets,
some flows are slow and low and some are the nicest
And then there are flows that are villanelles and sonnets
But as the eighty-year old,
Said what he said, something sunk in long after he left

After he left.
People started talking
We all agreed, that what he said
Was wrong, and I thought totally f’d
But for real, I understand what he meant

Respect. Everyone.
No matter, skin tone.
Home or no home,
Lost and alone, or watching the throne
The stoned, the sober, the drunk and the rest
All tribes are on quests
The beasties, and the westies, lefties, righties, easties
Man, as poets we got to learn, learn and teach the people
That poetry is unifying but can divide,
it can Elevate or Deflate, it can bust your ego in the third eye
Or it can define you, it can form a legacy before you die.
Your words are forever, they remain after the game.
Unite Poets, Wordgamers, Artists, Musicians
Those with the dying wish to live within the bruises.
Those obtuse, rude, confused, dudes and ladies
Remember this
When you throw shade on shadows, light never gets in
And when you place hate in your mind, or on the shit that you write
Then you are living differently than the poet way of life.

So 80 years or 60 Years there is a similar perspective
But the cats in the game now,
we left bigotry, and hate at the door,
before we wiped our feet
And took seats on the stage or the 13th floor.
But you want to know what the truth is?
There is nothing more stupid and useless then fighting about race and the color of our faces,
We all share the same space.
And so that’s what I learned as the camera man left,
And want to say big ups to the poets who read, and much respect.
And to the speaker, the feature, man he brought down the building,
And showed us that life is really for living. And that poetry is to uplift
To teach the people, there is no good and evil, there is no second sequel
Real talk poets.
We got one life,
So let’s unite, and uplift.
Instead of denigrate and deny.
Take this life’s punches standing, and eventually we’ll all be landing
On the same moon, the same tomb, 6 feet where were standing.
Don’t waste your time throwing shade, or promoting hatred
Cause we all one day
Are going to
The stage we created.

Real talk


Jason Wright is the founder and Editor of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly.