Tagged "slam poetry"

Loneliness

Oh, how I crave being alone, I can do whatever I please, And the only person who’d care, Is myself. It’s often associated,

By Rika Lekay5 years ago in Poets

Just Because I Supply You...

Just because I'm the one supplying you doesn't make me a bad person. Please, stop hiding the fact that we are 'friends' from people, like your spouse.

By Natalie Marie Stefani-Rice5 years ago in Poets

Red

My oh my, A patrician choice of color, A classic color of capes, A classic royal look. Though, it symbolizes other things,

By Rika Lekay5 years ago in Poets

Eavles and Kord

Under a knobby-looking oak I sit, on a cement bench shaped like a coffin for tall people. That obtrusive sun seeping through the leaves of the trees

By Barb Dukeman5 years ago in Poets

breath lake water or die walk refusing to stop or hope the backdoor's unlocked new name tag reads stuttering Popeye lightning rod chain ganged to electricity's bite kitten calendar flipping weathering the winds of Fitzgerald's nor'easter until galvanized against clouds capital brimming to strike white hot streaks charged lurking ready in shadow first scent chum proviso ad libitum picnic pomp lake plans sky fall flash winning crippling sweepstakes wafting whiff skin charred tire tread bald can't rescue holiday sans groundhog electron magnet hiding in ocean of dynamo semiconductors traverse gate toll bridge straight through quarter clink my queue unplug pressure cooker point to point last lap while on my brain drudging termites lockstep rhythm ordered to doubletime Soviet precision recurring vision Jim Jones lake frolicking berating my vacation landfill piling up stench days overflowing with pollution oil and water collide. scorched brisket feet earned

By Barb Snodgrass5 years ago in Poets

Laugh Now, Cry Later

What’s on my mind? The people that cheat, steal and lie. Those are not my kind of guys. To look me in my face and lie to me.

By Tecoria Savage5 years ago in Poets

Shore it Up

Want to feel light and happy, Without processing the darkness. Want the relationship, Don’t want to lose freedom.

By a*k² (a times k-squared)5 years ago in Poets

Bilingual Brain

My brain speaks In two different languages Gotta go I have so much energy I can do this and this and this I don’t need food

By Jordan Loucks5 years ago in Poets

Painful Love.

Disclaimer: This is dedicated to anyone who is/was in a painful relationship. Remember, “Love shouldn’t hurt” Heart aching, blood pressure sky high.

By Allandra-M5 years ago in Poets

Lulled

I'm living in a whirlpool of fools smart loud and tricky - I heard overheard conversations lies vicious and daring -

By Bazooka Teaches5 years ago in Poets

ReKindle My Spark

When we first met I had a spark A spark that the whole world could see But the more time we spent together The more my flame began to flicker

By Eddie Heath5 years ago in Poets

To the Walmart Cashier in charge of self checkout

I’m not stealing anything, I have enough money to purchase this mesh laundry bag, extra strength glue stick, and XActo knife. I know, you see me fidgeting, fumbling around. But I have no intentions of thievery. My intentions are far worse you see. Well maybe not to you, but to me. Detrimental to my very being. See, right now a battle is raging in my head. Bullets and grenades shot and thrown from each side of my mind. The trenches filled with the corpses both positivity and negativity. When I placed this knife into my cart, there were no ill thoughts in my heart. But as I began the journey to this line, the devil crept into my mind. He’s daring me to buy this thing. This knife in my hand, its perfect blade. He’s reminding me of older days, showing me similarities. To me, this knife takes after razor blades. And I have no intentions of harming myself, but with this knife upon my shelf the possibility gets a bit more concrete. One of these days when the devil comes before me, I might just be right on the edge of where he wants me and do this thing. And take this blade from where I’ve left it, bring it to my bed, my desk or my closet. And let the devil run his course. Or I might not, but I’m not sure. I think this is what scares me more. So no I’m not stealing, I promise, I’m just raging wars inside my head. Setting this knife down on this shelf. That’s not my shelf. To eliminate this feeling of doubt. Purchasing this mesh laundry bag and then leaving. And I should be proud. But I’m not.

By K5 years ago in Poets

slam poetry