performance poetry
Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
A Black Rose
Some say they don't see color. Although I understand the phrase in the deepest sense... If I said it I would be denying the fact that I saw it when I saw her and it was the most beautiful version of human. It wasn't just the melanin that was responsible for her lively character. It was the bright smile, the heart, the passion, her dance, the way she spoke, and most importantly— what people fail to see when color rubs them salty... It was her soul. It was like the soil she grew from never lacked water or seed. Although misguided at times she found her path. Not everyone operates that way. Geography kept her strong; she first bloomed in the bay. In Oakland. We took a walk down her block and she'd turn to me and say, "Sometimes I wish I was blind to society's flaws; institutionalized by the governments laws... You would think after years of fighting against all odds...evolution would of provided my people with claws... On my block...I take a second...and pause...thinking about how my RIGHTS had to be written into laws...while for others it was just a birth right given from God."
By Cory Russo5 years ago in Poets
Roytionality
Intro: Here’s your final piece sir, man sir mam SIR! Here’s ya ticket wait in line and as you are just so happen to be waiting, fill out this forum be DONE BEFORE, BE. FORE! entering into the room any QUESTIONS. Wait in line well call ya number. NEXT!
By Roy James Brown5 years ago in Poets
/BLAK/: Dad
The HEBREW MEANING FOR ANGER IS A QUESTION. . . Where is Father? I went by my dad’s house the other day, he wasn’t there. So I waited for him. . . to never show up, It’s as if he was gone in the blink of an eye lash, gone in 60 seconds has now turned into milliseconds wasting away my curiosity, so right now I’m left with all this misdirection as to where he could be or better yet, where he should be.
By H.J. Halcomb5 years ago in Poets
