slam poetry
Slam poetry: that magical mix of rhythm and rhyme.
American Citizen
wash me in burger grease and lightly salt mean American baptismsecluded in the Church walls of an old RVconvert me into a Backyard Barbecue BelieverI want to drown in the Independence Day pool partycleanse me of my olive skinbleach me with chlorine and hot dog juicestuff me with a new mind like a Thanksgiving Turkeymy old heart is as valuable as that of an artichokeI want to feel the caloric buzz in my bloodstreamI want to be the last foot marching in the paradeI want to fade into the crowd, the angry mob, the happy peopleI want to be no one but a collective entityI'll kill the foreignerto feel alive here
By Julia Corrado7 years ago in Poets
Kaleidoscope
a mirage. a kaleidoscope of every fabricated personality—crafted by flicking fluorescent lights and nicotine smoke—each one lacking consistency. I struggled for perfection—looking for criticism in every attentive glance. taking note of what worked and with who. my patience slipped like sand in a slanted hourglass— I began to let that all go— you claimed to have lost someone you never knew. you spit in my face from a decaying float on your pity parade. a thin veil of victim covered slick crocodile tears. jealousy bloomed from your palms tracing your veins in spider webbed moss
By Jaina Nehm7 years ago in Poets
Pu***y Power
I wasn't made to be a singer I wasn't made to rap I was made to write the truth and expose the facts I was supposed to be a poet who knew the words before she wrote it and I may fall flat and land on my back or I might be great and fucc who say I ain't see word have a power that people don't understand how they can influence the world and change the thoughts of any man how we as women have the the might to knock down towers and every man falls short at the hands of pussy power and I see myself I guess as a triple threat I have brains beauty and a cute little butt no I have brains beauty and the will to say enough is enough. I wasn't made to be a joke or a mouth that never spoke i have conformed to this life to one day be called his wife to be compliant and just wait to give him head and make his plate to be submissive and hear his lies no matter how many tears drown my eyes to suck it up and work it out but if the roles were to change you'd see would walk out. To be his bottom bitch no matter the cost to be so supportive no matter what's lost and that's fine but tell me when is my time to make mistakes and change the lines to tell a lie and never wonder why. Why she stays
By Chelsia Nelson7 years ago in Poets
