Starving…


The question was “What does being a starving artist feel like?”
And the first thing crossed my mind said
It’s the insatiable appetite that’s never quite fed
The deep thirst of third world hunger
Standing right in your face but really round corners
Bed time prayers of I only want to live according to my purpose
And you said I can be any,
I mean everything I want,
Though it might not come true
Potential locked deep within missed prophetic projections of propaganda in the streets
Mass minds institutionalized off synthetic meats
Like that mind can’t even have a normal conversation without spitting forth facts
Too much to say in too little time so ADHD by society regulations
How can you put a price to inspiration
To a starving artist, that is alright
If the message was to just touch one soul
Peaceably laid
Every tear shed along the way would be well worth the wait and nights that kept me up writing
Just to say, my brother, come what may, I love you
My Nubian sisters though the world continually attempts to demoralize you through your temples
You will forever be a
Me + And + You + Must + NEVER + PART SISTER
I’m sorry, to an artist, it’s like your mind is a coded message where every word has endless meanings
Dictionary mazes in circular places
Grammatical clauses “conducted” into reality
Scribble erased deleted sentences aimed for perfection
Because I know I only have 3 minutes in front of you
I want to infinite every second
Starving so clichéd they say it doesn’t even exist
Paragraphs of metaphors and words stripped of their origin
Showing divinity transcends generations
So excuse my sudden change in dialect
My people come from many places
Being a starving artist is like starving for what most people consider work
While I say it’s my passion so I’ll do it for free
Even if it means my dreams begin to seem impossible to reach
I’ll speak my way through boulders
Burden bear every struggle
I mean who needs shoulders anyway
Knowing there is no greater joice to behold than having a young child say,
“I want to talk like that when I get older”
I’ll volunteer every hour in your honor
There are no job descriptions
It’s simply worth it to work it because I’ve been
Starving for so long that full now feels empty if I can’t share it with you
Have you ever been called someone’s favorite poet?
Resonation so loud Griots spring forward
Century old greetings of Welcome Children, we’ve been waiting for you
Take a seat in what these days are called an audience
To an artist
The arena looks different yet we facing the same problems
I mean how you say I’m starving when people are really dying from hunger
Like you want me to talk about BET when HIV in some places is less than 1:63
When chances of certain minorities getting a diploma is less than those getting a GED
While those same babies cite trey songz but only know how to sing their ABC’s
An artist simply feels like dying to save those degrees
This ain’t feeling, it’s breathing
This ain’t dreaming, it’s living
Since when did we start getting paid for what should be done for free?
I can’t tell you what being a starving artist feels like cause I’m just doing what God says to
Allowing him to minister to me by passing messages on to you
He’s the potter, I’m just the clay
He be the army using my tongue to slay
You talking poetry while I’m citing prophecy
Ain’t no starving in this artistry
Cause the journey’s way more fulfilling than the meal
It’s the only thing I know how to feel
Only in this place can I hear because the rest of the world sounds quiet
I ain’t just living for this, I’d die for it.

(c) Nykieria Chaney

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6 thoughts on “Starving…

  1. ATLTG:
    “Because I know I only have 3 minutes in front of you I want to infinite every second.”

    I read this sentence to mean: “Because I know I only have 3 minutes in front of you and I want every second to go on forever.”

    I really love the sentence and I hope I’ve interpreted it’s meaning correctly? My apologies if I haven’t!

    ATLTG:
    You talking poetry while I’m citing prophecy
    Ain’t no starving in this artistry
    Cause the journey’s way more fulfilling than the meal
    It’s the only thing I know how to feel
    Only in this place can I hear because the rest of the world sounds quiet
    I ain’t just living for this, I’d die for it. […]

    What you’ve described IMO is pure Passion for what you Love to do.

    It almost remiinds me of my Passion for music.

    Thanks for sharing!

    • Peace, thanks so much for comments and taking the time to stop by. I didn’t realize that I made the post protected. Not sure how I ended up doing that.

      You were dead on with your interpretation of the poem. Do you play an instrument or are you an all around music lover?

      • “Do you play an instrument or are you an all around music lover?”

        Actually both. I play drums (as in drum-set) and I’m an avid music junki…errr..lover ..lol

        I come from a family where music runs in Our blood, whether playing an instrument, singing, or just plain listening/collectiing it….music rules!

        But my mother is also an avid reader of novels, short stories and poetry so my love of great poetry (written and spoken word) also runs in the blood.

      • Nice, well welcome.

        I’ve had an Acoustic Eletric guitar for about 5 years that i’ve never learned to play… Even though I took a class for it.. Shh, don’t tell 🙂

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