Sit and be silent to be heard no more,
Perhaps you heard those words somewhere
Sometimes in one's life growing up,
Why people think it their duty to silence
another person not to speak openly and freely,
A spoken word or sound is meant to be heard
Like the loud ring tone of a cell phone
And indication, someone is calling,
Somebody need to be heard:
My grandparents, and parent believe
In silencing this poetess when I was a child
At a point where my voice stays inside,
Then step two where, everybody that knew me
Kept asking why I was so shy:
Why was I afraid to speak to my elders?
Me being shy became social anxiety for some
As for my friends I spoke with confident, like a true trooper,
Grown folks intimidate the hell out of me,
Why? Because of commanding words
Sit and be silent to be heard no more.
As an adult, I have a hard time taking orders
From others, or being talk down too,
Maybe that's why I enjoy writing so much
Only I can hear my voice when I compose
Until I allowed my reading to take a peep
At my work, my Island tongue,
My American frustration on worldly views
I sat for too long, I frown for too long,
I bite down on my tongue for too long,
But I concocted a plan, on how to
Get back my silencers, and revenge them
With my spoken words of silence, without being seen
"Great is language, it is the mightiest of sciences
It is the fulness and color and form and diversity of the earth and of men and women and of all qualities and processes.
It is greater than wealth, it is greater than buildings, or ships or religious or painting or music. -----Walt Whitman.. "
Jul 31, 2021
Jul 31, 2021 at 9:42 AM UTC
Sit and be silent to be heard no more,
Perhaps you heard those words somewhere
Sometimes in one's life growing up,
Why people think it their duty to silence
another person not to speak openly and freely,
A spoken word or sound is meant to be heard
Like the loud ring tone of a cell phone
And indication, someone is calling,
Somebody need to be heard:
My grandparents, and parent believe
In silencing this poetess when I was a child
At a point where my voice stays inside,
Then step two where, everybody that knew me
Kept asking why I was so shy:
Why was I afraid to speak to my elders?
Me being shy became social anxiety for some
As for my friends I spoke with confident, like a true trooper,
Grown folks intimidate the hell out of me,
Why? Because of commanding words
Sit and be silent to be heard no more.
As an adult, I have a hard time taking orders
From others, or being talk down too,
Maybe that's why I enjoy writing so much
Only I can hear my voice when I compose
Until I allowed my reading to take a peep
At my work, my Island tongue,
My American frustration on worldly views
I sat for too long, I frown for too long,
I bite down on my tongue for too long,
But I concocted a plan, on how to
Get back my silencers, and revenge them
With my spoken words of silence, without being seen
"Great is language, it is the mightiest of sciences
It is the fulness and color and form and diversity of the earth and of men and women and of all qualities and processes.
It is greater than wealth, it is greater than buildings, or ships or religious or painting or music. -----Walt Whitman.. "
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