Even Bigger Words

Art Form: Writing
Genre/Type: Poetry






Vocabulous verve by Kuamel Stewart

I have an affection for words, but my affinity for these words has been deemed by my peers as an affliction,
I have become the target of a verbal firing squad exclaiming sounds of disappointment for my use in diction,
The logophile in me was not born in the imagination of my mind to exude an intellectual ability that is built upon fiction,
So do not call it complicated,
I have reiterated,
That the sight and sound of infinite syllables connecting together to form clauses as one of the many viable options of transferring the conjuring of thought and vagrancy into inscription comprises what I call “expression formulated",
Do not reject my prose,
But rather reach back within the depths of your mind and discover the will to learn and interpret that which you do not understand and thus upon the extension of your purview you will attain more depth in your soul,
My words are not a farce,
I do not seek to impress just so that I can cajole the weak-minded into believing that I am a unique purveyor of written art,
The imperfections of this socio-political and economic society has inspired me to use the pen, pencil, and keyboard as a tool to fight against the rise of stupidity, apathy, ignorance and every ill-mannered intention of those who have not embraced the beauty of solidarity, sanctum, equality and the essence of love
And this, is my love,
I am but the continuation of yet another human vessel utilizing the art to inform, subsequent to the concretization of the works of the Angelous, Wrights, Emersons, Woodsons, Baldwins, Hurstons, Williams’, Whitmans’, Fitzgeralds’ and the long line of scribes who realize that the beauty of humanity to think and reason should be supplemented by the action of sharing thought through the use of ink, scrolls, hieroglyphics, books, journals, diaries, graffiti and now blogs,
This is my passion,
I hope that they will ration,
And understand,
That when my fingers feverishly tap the keys I am liberated from the bounds of the fear of mortality,
These words are the signature of my expression and they give the imprint of my thought on the world long after my exit from this life vitality,
So no, I will not reason
Every medium that I can use to inject these thoughts into the veins of this society, shall for that moment, become my season,
My world.
I implore the pundits to remember the possibility that the great writers who scribed before us were once heckled for their obsession of scrambling the letters of the alphabet into stories that we now revere, extol and seek to emulate,
So before you gauge,
And exact upon my written products your feeble-minded rage spawned by the very misunderstandings in your mind that I have sought to alleviate with my very writing that you have before you,
Know that no matter your critique that the very fact that I have left my imprint on this world with words just like so many others means more than the intricacy of that that I have written,
So yes, to the ability and commitment to create these phrases I am smitten,
And it is only when I have mediated the ideas that have fermented in my mind onto the page and screen that the light of my soul has glistened,
And like any other great sincere artist, I will bestow upon myself the glory,
Not for my eloquence, pensiveness, or rhetoric, but rather for my ability and privilege to access something that allows me to tell my own story.
And until I am stripped of this inspiration and objective by forces both divine and tangible to remove the cataracts off of every third eye on every face,
The damned consciousness of this world is not safe.
Peace.