you can watch the video of the performance on the link below
1,2, mic
check, mic check can you hear me? Hello…Hello…
It is the
first time I am speaking you know, so I have to check.
By the way,
I introduced myself in the first line, did you miss it?
1,2, mic
check, mic check can you hear me?
The name is
“Phone”, “Microphone”, you all know me as mic!
I have given
a voice to so many, but never was my own voice heard.
Thanks to
this old fat girl here tonight ye humans, I speak to you.
Wow! it is
scary talking through me! I am getting a bit nervous up here.
I am the one who sends your voice out there
for the world to hear.
The first
few times you are shit scared but after that,
I have seen you guys revel in holding me, in
romancing me,
I give you a persona, I give you a purpose, I
give you the guts to spill your own guts out in public!
Off course, I
am nothing without the Speaker guy standing right up there,
Hey old buddy,
all good? You shouting all ok?
Ya that’s
why I send you strepsils on all your birthdays dude.
And then
there are our human friends too, they keep our shouting and shrieking in check.
Hey, you there, let’s grab a beer later!
Like all
great inventions, I was born out of a necessity, well you guys thought it’s a
necessity.
Your
unquenchable need to be heard, and not just heard but heard loud by as many as
possible.
You have
become so loud, that silence has a price tag sold to you as meditation courses,
nirvana camps and nature treks.
Nevertheless,
I still admired your spunk to step up, to speak your mind, you had no veils of
illuminated screens to hide behind. But now, even your fingers speak with your
fancy schmancy internet, tharki sala!
He can’t
hold a candle to me, not with his faceless, no standards behavior.
That chappri will give a voice to anyone, but
to hold me you need to earn it, you need to have the courage and integrity to literally
stand for your beliefs!!
Anyway, one
of you made me, to convert sound energy in form of pressure waves into
electrical signals, but you guys aren’t interested in all this scientific
jargon.
You know the
first time you played with me was as a child when you attached two cups with a string
and whispered in one so that your friend could hear through the other.
This is
called the ‘Lovers’ Telephone’, so I may have helped you land a play date or
two.
Speaking of
telephones, good old Uncle Bell used me in his telephone, so I have surely
helped you land some real dates as well!
But despite
of doing all that for you, how could you allow the worst of your lot to touch
me!
I have endured so much!
Are you even
aware what bad breath some people have, and then in their nervousness they end
up kissing me a lot of times, there’s tongue action involved, come on in public
stop embarrassing me!
And don’t
even get me started on the sweaty palms…
When some of
you guys sing, you know on the drunken karaoke nights especially,
That’s when
I question my existence,
I curse the
day I was born for I become the medium for those horrendous voices to reach out
there.
But how much
harm can a bad voice do really? A little annoyance perhaps.
But those
so-called world leaders of yours with their nuke threats and rocket man and
dotards;
their
pathetic agendas of ethnic cleansing, racism, religion;
the
platitudes they spout, the empty promises they make, the pompous self-praising
speeches;
their
crippled views on terrorism and feminism and humanity;
those
rabble-rousers just provoke you and use me mercilessly to spread their evil.
“Oh man, oh man
There is so much you can
But all you do is ban this ban that
You are not making any fan
I feel like taking a pan and hitting you
blue and black till you tan”
Come on
guys, it’s the first time I am talking and it’s poetry night so I thought I
will rhyme a little.
Okay, okay standards
and all!! getting back to your dotards, I just feel like yelling shut the fuck
up!
They make me
feel like grasping my chord and strangling myself with it.
If my
existence is a medium for their voices to be heard, then I would take a violent
death over it anytime.
But then I
hear there’s a poetry slam,
I hear the voices of reason and social change and
emotion.
Here, I
hear incarcerated hearts, make a prison break for freedom,
And even though they leave behind a few teardrops, I
feel fulfilled to have aided and abetted these emotions.
I hear the
comedians, the laughs they generate and the joy it creates.
I hear your
fingers create magic on a guitar or a harmonium, the music wafting through me
making the universe sway.
I hear, the
lilting voices, the soulful melodies, the profound stories.
I hear the
voice of a brave journalist pushing out the naked truth.
I hear the
excitement filled voice of a child on his first time on stage.
And I loosen
my grip over that chord.
I still feel
hopeful for your kind, as long as there is art and love and truth.
You know I
am just a mic, some of you may be hallucinating that I am talking to you
tonight
But I have
no life, no voice, no soul.
But you do,
don’t you?
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