The Poets

July 29, 2011

Beneath the Mask

The story behind the poem below is a tragic one, and true. A ‘father’ throws acid on his daughter’s face which leaves her disfigured. In a course of time she develops a deep level of depression from the abuse she suffered at the hand of her own father, and from the notion that she will never be beautiful again. Reeling in disparity, she takes her life. Very sad.

I first heard this piece performed a couple of months ago by one of the most gifted spoken word poets I’ve ever met, Cassidy Belville. I was left in awe at its delivery, and finally got the courage to ask Cassidy if I could post it here. Without skipping a beat she said yes. I was (and am) totally honored that she did so.

About the poem itself, it’s a really good read; but when I heard it performed by Cassidy at the pool I was blown away! The deliverance of it was perfect, the internal rhythm and cadence were astonishingly harmonic, the constant back and forth between ideas (life vs. death) made one feel the existential struggle the poem puts forth, and the subject itself was both breathtaking and tragic at the same time.

Now, I’m a writer of poetry, not a performer or spoken word poet. Cassidy is both. I’ve heard a lot of poets deliver their pieces before- and deliver them well- but I was utterly floored by the gravity of Cassidy’s gift to write and recite a work of art such as this- pure talent. You’ve got to read this poem and let me know what you think …

Beneath the Mask

R.I.P. Katie
Death? Unpreventable. Suicide? Pathetic.
For one who regrets with a life that's less? Death? No.
You are a breath,
Even if it's a mind going crazy on meth, it is not death! It's life. And for

those who give it up with the stroke of a knife, listen Tony plight.
For this girl gave her life for a reason. She had a father of treason.
The liquid of acid threw her porcelain skin to acid,
In a hospital bed she lie, because of the one that said the lie,
The lie, that made her die.
We have life. Does she? Yes, she survived.
However her face she has to hide under a mask that divides, her beauty
from her life. Who wants that life
A mind bent on suicide? Because she died.
An act of breaking of what that mask was making.
Suicide? Some may say so. But for the ones that know,
She is a victim of death because it was her time to go. So next time you
take that knife to your wrist,
Think of the girl that lived the life of a risk.

Thanks, Cassidy ... this is a very touching piece.



even without the voice of the poet as you describe it/her, these words speak on their own - with beauty and with truth - thanks so much for sharing -

P.J. said...

Many have asked me to read my poems, but to talk - in general - is my achilles' heel. And I feel that I destroy the poem in that way, even though poems are made for reading out loud; why are there rhytm and rhymes if the shan't be read out loud once in a while?
I wrote them in silence, I feel that they should be read in silence. But at the same time I want to read on stage with a contrabass- and a saxophoneplayer beside me, or something.
But wasn't it Churchill, who also had a great diffucult to speak, that said that one should take advantage of one's weaknesses?

Many of those I have heard - these days - have often been more like comedy, or too dramatic, like it's all to give what the mass want... I have never been in the mass.
I mean it's okey to be funny, but don't expect and wait for a laugh.

I love these:

(the last is one of my favourite poems, actually)

As of April 9th, 2010