Oh… so you’re a poet?

What perplexes me is a poet speaking of beauty;
dishevelled

Or speaking of madness of his love;
finely groomed

-W.E.

I’m rather embarrassed to walk around and call myself a poet, writer or stand up at a spoken word event.

I just like writing my thoughts down, albeit in a somewhat appropriate manner, with a context, maybe with a message for at least one person.

I wish I did know how to present with tone, expression, valour and eloquence, this was the profession of my ancestors but I’m a recluse most of the time, happy with my books, comfortable in my quarters and with my family. Even my family can be too noisy, hence why I choose the night for most of my work.

As engrossed and mentally dishevelled as I may get, my outer appearance doesn’t resemble anything except that of a layman, an every day Joe. I don’t have a Don Quan shirt and fisherman’s pants, (but hey they’re cool on the beach, no doubt) nor do I sport ragged clothes and talk to myself in the street.

I just am without the need to slide into a stereotype. We should all learn how to transmutate, but you can only do that when you acquaint yourself with the cultures of the world. In every culture there are arts, music, language, food, beliefs, superstitions, practises and more. These will definitely add to your beauty until it spills out accidentally, and becomes the stain on your collar people can’t miss, and it becomes the ink on their shirt they don’t want to wash off.

You won’t need to be a walking billboard with fancy brand name clothes, you will be your own brand, unmistakable.