Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
The Clearance Rack Rainbow, now Shadowed by a New, Red White And Blue Lie, to adorn.
By AAshes4 years ago in Poets
It bubbles deep beneath, seething, boiling, roiling to a dense and roaring cacophony. A wall of sound, blocking out all reason, eradicating logic, feelings become like a tar;
By DionGrio (Mak Wey) 4 years ago in Poets
peril for this young lover’s heart under bone crushing weight that offers more than just scars he tries to escape before calling all cars
By Jeffrey Sparks4 years ago in Poets
Forever Ready To Be Bread By Matt The Poet Runaway with me. Play with me. Paradise at the perfect pitch. I am the weaver’s mistaken stitch.
By Matt The Poet4 years ago in Poets
(This poem is about all the haters of “People of Trans,” a group in which we ourselves are often included.) Those that hate us say we are not real
By Jimmye NikePyros Winburn4 years ago in Poets
I am not here no more Keeping score In this snow globe Dancing a different Sound Spinning round n round Shake it and see
By Sheila Jan Stauffer4 years ago in Poets
Am I a wail or a whimper? Do I burn or just simmer? What is my role and when is my cue. When it comes to them, I don't know what to do.
By Dylan Ritch4 years ago in Poets
Like in a mother’s womb, I have been kept confined within my own world, Unaware of what lies beyond these walls of trials and tribulations,
By C.Psyche4 years ago in Poets
…seem to do more than I don’t …tend to oversimplify so I won’t have any middle ground My downfall is I found sex too young and self too late
By Majique MiMi4 years ago in Poets
The wine drips from my lips As I devour her body. The holy altar, dressed in white, Is the stage of my new hobby. . I practice every Saturday
By annie harper4 years ago in Poets
Dearly Beloved, We gather here today to mourn The passing of our friend And though I know your hearts are torn
By Dan Foster4 years ago in Poets
The confetti is settling on the ground, the lights dim Standing in the middle of a clearing crowd, the bustling drifts. Like a rock in the middle of the street, dancing away from the brooms,
By Crystal Ayers4 years ago in Poets
