Poetry Slam

by Michael

I’ve never been to a poetry slam
I don’t use-odd-punc-tu-a-tion
or take weird breaaaths
If I did do a poetry slam it’d sound like this
Pause for dramatic effect
I’ll slam my poems on the podium
the microphone, the floor, whatever
I’ll laugh as I say that was me doing a poetry slam

Maybe I’d try to freestyle for a while
Try to make you smile
which rhymes with aisle
Get all angry and blast the man
or shun the war in iran
Talk about how we’re too scared of the taliban

That ain’t legit

Perhaps a soft an airy voice that floats like aroma of fresh baked cookies
would quench the cinders of passionate creativity inside of me
To speak of times oft forgot, when I knew him, and knew him well
To pine for love, a dream deferred, or paradise lost

But alas, I know not this man that would then possess my body

If I were a poet I might show my darker side
images like me putting a cigarette out in your eye
serve to show my spite and bitter hatred
running over from my cup long filled by all the shit I’ve put up with

I’m not jaded

A poet tries to be noble and creative
tries to tell you that life is never what it seems on the surface
that you need to see the trees through the forest
and love is a lot like pineapples–juicy and painful when it hits you in the face

I’m not trying to make sense of love
I don’t need you to feel like the world is out to get you
I could care less if you feel sorry about the pain I feel
I’m not worried about you understanding anything I’ve said

Don’t read my poetry, don’t listen to my speeches, don’t watch me work
because I am not a poet, but I can slam poetry