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My Purpose

POEM: What’s The Point of This?

According to croberts5:

ImageSo tell me what’s the point of this? Get on stage, say these, words, you applaud, but what’s the point of this? Cause after you dap me up and say Yo that shit was tight, dudes still on the corner hustlin’ thru the night. Open up the paper, another young man lost his life. But Yo that shit was tight. Yeah you may like what I said but that don’t change the fact that he’s dead.

     A grieving mother could care less about how many times this poem won a poetry contest. Unless those applause reach the stars and entice the creator to bring her child back. Kleenex scattered across the floor so much pain in her heart, she don’t even have the strength to say why no more? But hey, that was a mean ass metaphor.  

     So tell me what’s the point of this? Yeah I can rhyme rape with hate and date, and you’ll say hey that piece was great. But that doesn’t do anything about the fact that her hymen was left in pieces when she was 8. Stolen before she could give it, taken before she could even wrap her mind around how much she would miss it. Scars running deeper than tissue, and the universe knows she’ll have tears in the distance. Maybe she could wipe them with these pages of poetry, and get some tangible use out of what has become a mockery.

     So tell me what’s the point of this? I’ll attempt to give an answer. Our words should be the least of it. Our words should be the condiments and our actions should be the meat of it. And our lives should be the bread, creating a sandwich, with which we feed those in need of it. Our words should be shared, not secluded to dimly lit cafe’s with people who want the status w/o the burden to bear. Our words should be thunderstorms that the listener turns into hurricanes, our words should be sparks that the listener turns into flames. Our words should be the glow of the sun at midnight. Our words should be what braille sounds like.

     Your words will do all the talking, I have accomplished nothing if only I speak of it. There is a point to all these poems, and my words should be the least of it.


About croberts5

Love on accident. Live on purpose. I do some things people label revolutionary, to me they just feel like the truth.


6 thoughts on “POEM: What’s The Point of This?

  1. #Truth…Words are not valued as they should be. We have grown numb to their effectiveness. Check this out when you get a chance by @IamKaleb, an artist dedicated to truth and words of value http://youtu.be/UtLylWFpe5M

    Posted by Kristina Patrice | June 21, 2012, 4:58 am
  2. I’ve read this three times. Each time it’s more provocative – like a slap, a wake-up call. It’s saying hey! hey! Are you listening?! I dunno. I just love it. It’s very real. Not many people speak from the cojones (as the spanish would say). So I appreciate this. Thanks! 🙂

    Posted by Topedia | July 19, 2012, 11:26 pm
  3. The point is the same as what you implied….you open up the paper and you see another man dead…but you will never know how many people where not in the paper that day with the same “dead”/”slain” headline because of the words that you spoke. Or how many young females who lost their hymen at 8, that read/heard your rhyme and felt as if you were speaking/saying things they could never say. The point is to put it out there and hope that you message reaches beyond the tangible.

    Posted by notsurewhattosay2 | December 29, 2012, 11:58 am


  1. Pingback: Trying to be clear about the point… | Will Carroll - November 8, 2013

  2. Pingback: Trying to be clear… | - May 31, 2014

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