Bookworm

I am not a writer, poet, or author
That you should heed my word.
I did not visit libraries or fought wars for that matter,
I kept no dictionaries.
I did not have a favourite novel or an author.
Those that I do are out of peer-pressure:
Who’s your favourite, what book do you practice?
In the manner of whether it’s a cat or a dog, coffee or tea
A boy or a girl, the mountain or the sea.

I am not a priest, politician, or anarchist
That you should consider my opinion.
I didn't ride with the tides, or make divides for that matter,
I picked no sides.
I did not read manifestos or followed a leader.
Those that I do are out of disobedience for another:
Whose side are you on, who's good, who's bad?
In the manner of whether there's God or Devil, fits and misfits
A genius or a stupid, the beautiful and the ugly.

I am not a conductor, pianist, or a singer
That you should listen to me.
I didn't excite the crowds, or make one weep for that matter,
I sang no duets.
I didn't wrestle or put misery into music.
That which I remember are from another’s memory:
What's minim and crotchet, tunes and tones?
In the manner of if I prefer rock or classical, guitar or harp
A love song or a gazal, ballad or rap.

I am not a judge, jury, or executioner
That you should mark my words.
I did not command nor read commandments for that matter,
I held no swords.
I didn't wave flags or know anyone who does.
Those that I know are through strained kinships:
What’s Marxist or Communist, lordship or dealership?
In the manner of who-is-who and where-are-you-from
A son-of-someone or something-out-of-no-one.

I am the buyer, the worker, the bargainer,
That everyday commuter, bus-rider, chance-traveller,
I am a son, a daughter, an adoptee, an adopter.
As for my senseless dreams and mindless machines
As for my unwritten words and untold melodies
As for my songless journeys and worldless histories
As for everything there was and everything there is
I have built a counter
for the lost-and-found.