The Bastardization of Poetry

I wish...
we could go back to the words,
"in the beginning".
before claps, snaps, ohh's, awes and applause.
when the mic
was simply
a release,
a vessel,
an alter,
in which to sacrifice our sorrows.
when poetry was a testament to life,
a gift from the g.o.d.s
and the answers were sought NOT in how you moved the crowd,
but how you humbly allowed the crowd to move you.
emotions tumbled from your lips
clinging desperately onto the ears of the person who needed it the most.
i want to go back before rewinds, stop watches, and time penalties.
before the construction of ego's tore down what our soul feasted upon.