poetry SLAMPoetry SLAM! put the pop in poetry. we listen drink down words, feel the edges nick our throats or warm our stomachs. chaotic strings of words wrapped around our wrists shaping our fingers; a claw of commas and parentheses begins writing. writing letters righting wrongs, everything we swore not to tell everything that still needed the gratification of an audience; the letters spilling out of my mouth to form a tidal wave that engulfs the world yet cradles them, a warm breath skipping across their necks, whisperinpoetry SLAM
every year this happens.every year this happens and every year this fails. we're no longer children laughing leaning, shyly, on the rails. breaking into empty storerooms, sharing secrets on the floor we've both grown up and now, both not honest anymore. months passed, you had your words and i'd sworn they'd be the last and now we act as if old friends; face small remnants of our past. neither wanting to lean, and fall. neither wanting words to mean anything at all.every year this happens.
order, order.Waiting in your motherly chair Waiting for the words that will tie me up nicely, As I speak of everything that's all in my head. I hear the words settle, softly, In tracks the others left. I pause. You take a note. The schizophrenics and the phobics The depressives who looked at your wall art too; The greenhouse on a pale blue background It was symmetrical With a watermark In the bottom left. The din of your air conditioner mixing with the technical terms and scratching at my ears. With each bare nod of my head, My mother's pompous blush grows &nbsorder, order.
of airplanes,muggy streetlamps can't compare with city lights that scrape the skies; the cool windows and sloping metal slabs. these rough-hewn sidewalks sweat urban stains. and those suburban sub-standards; picket fences decay, and history doesn't peel like paint. the gritty culture compared to the voicinized scene of carbon copied houses and man-made mountains. (the laminated lifestyle is simply a breeding ground for more glossy minds.) so you can take your supermarket and your cut-out couture. but leave behind the heart you've had bottled &of airplanes,
spring cleaning
