slam poetry
Slam poetry: that magical mix of rhythm and rhyme.
Blood
Bloody The sharper the object, the less I’ll object. A quick slice, scalpel drawn, a sketch in skins story. Waterproof until pierced. Then gushing blush crimson honey. Combed in coagulation if left, Drag index fingers through. Be positive, eight percent. Used to be nine.
By Paul Beckett4 years ago in Poets
This is not Poetry
SThe Asteroids have the Podium My friend, Sammy, says This is not poetry. Poetry… Like ours, is just real life with pretty words spread around like rose petals except… Crusty thistles instead of flowers. It's as real as real gets, Pally. We were not blessed with the blinders of ignorance. We've been adorned with the gift of sufferance. Our intelligence falls on wilfully deaf ears but those not on our level shout up to us about keeping the fucking music down. This gift is more of a severance package because a gift, you give back and, neither of us really wanna be here. The pseudo-intelligence that everyone seems to be swollen in the thighs with, causes these pricks to scarf bullshit like a Conehead, plowing down a sub sandwich.
By Vondutchess4 years ago in Poets
