Internal Authority

"The Staged Self vs. The Authentic Self"

There is a voice I hear

Nagging tunes and tones I ignore with hazy gore and

It implores me to listen

From the core of my existence as

The art I am

What art am I?

A lustrous negligence hounds me

Rigidity festers and I reject the part where

Mounds of ancient echoes

Drum the lucidity of my marrow

The idyllic carved art form tempting my boxed self to stiffen

So I can impress and glisten my cliched integrity

While the sacred space of my brow

Shifts all self-doubt out of place

And sprouts sincerity on my face

Where the droughts of the rat race

And my sweltering compressed poses

Stifle the prose of my calligraphied grace

When the clock chimes “I’m awake and aware!”

Round and round, the tick dares to unlock

My thoughts clouding,

Enshrouding my totemic knowing

Drowning in the crowd’s frowning where

The crowing sunrise cacophony of illumination that kindles the

Dizziness in the hub of toxic rumination

“I have to BE the right way!” so I can

Climb to the balcony of consciousness entreating transformation

“I know my right way” exposes the

Pseudo elation that spews scripted sensations

But what do I feel beneath this spurious spiel?

Who am I when I peel

Humility from any infection

I kneel to my own vitreous reflection

Where introspection exposes a suppressed self

A victim of mass production

A dressed fabrication pulled from conformity’s shelf so

I now stand at that pivotal intersection

Where a storm of grit bathes blame

Defames “the right fit” and all flavors of shame and

Feasts on my claim that

My heart is tainted, painted dull

My head is basking in the null

My halo is wallowing in the lull

This is me, if YOU say so

I wade in the melted rows

Unbelted boroughs of social order’s “I say so’s”

Those dismal archetypal garnishes

Unleashes me from the pessimism of impressionism

Unvarnishes my trusted knowings because

I do reckon I’m bound by the tarnished self-pity paradigm

By the exterior muse who confuses and accuses

Buries me in the refuse of prescribed abuses that ask

What beckons the chance for a valorous stance?

My respiration so bold takes heed!

I breathe. I know

What imperfect glance bridles each circumstance?

My desperation to mold does bleed!

I seethe. I know

My spirit is emblazoned with spigots of tenacity

Self-dignity riots evolving gallant audacity

Vital witness to what is declared

I am the me YOU choose me to be!

-- I bow to the outside servility --

I revolve with its incessant rantings

That orate ...

I am the me I choose to be!

-- I bow to my inside tranquility --

I circumvolve with my iridescent grantings

That orate ...

Tormentous “have tos” and “musts”

I’m clinging to confinement’s crusts where

I’ve liberated “I cans” and “I ams”

I’m walzting on waters without dams

No scams to sway those

Compliant impeding voices that summon me to emaciate

“I am who YOU say I am, me not free.”

Noble indigenous voices that quake my innate

“I am who I say I am, free to be.”

From vulnerable pretending

I am that falsified vendor

From conspicuous surrendering

I am true and tender

From my hollow crevices

A frenzied echo grows

From my interior splendor

Authenticity flows

What it shows, so it goes

What it shows, so it goes

Your voice knows

My voice is silenced by culture’s throes

I hear you though, the tunes and tones

Punctured by society’s sticks and stones

You are no clone

There’s a secret choice in your voice

A murmur too meager, to risk rejoice

A circle to cycle that murmur to a mutter

A mutter to a chorus of your authentic self’s rudder

Oh, what to utter?

I’m lost without a billboard’s sputter

It’s time for parole from your voice’s shutter

Freeroll your own ride

The quilting of YOU in stride

What it shows …

… so it goes

I submitted this for the After the Parade Challenge. Thanks for reading, and for considering a clicked heart, comment, Pledge and Tip if you so choose. See more of my writing and info about me here: Jessica Amber Barnum