slam poetry

Slam poetry: that magical mix of rhythm and rhyme.

Hashtag
If my life gets taken by the police don’t turn me into a hashtag. Don’t say my name, whisper it quietly. Use it as a code to conduct meetings doused in secrecy
By D.S. Walls6 years ago in Poets
Jell-O Molds
She comes at me as if in plain sight As though I don’t see how she struggles to mask her ugly disguise Ring ring Cell phone harkens back to olden times
By Kayla Evans6 years ago in Poets
Kool-Aid
Oh, did I scare you? Upset your fragile little backwoods world? The one filled with judgment and hatred With Trump clichés and family betrayals
By Kayla Evans6 years ago in Poets
Nikki
You’re a wicked witch, A rotten bitch. You act real nice, And then you switch. And someday they, will see it too. Someday they, will see the real you.
By James 6 years ago in Poets
The Great Land
I can’t breathe I can’t see I can’t believe What do we do? When we cry out that we can’t breathe And you keep walking by like you can’t hear the screaming.
By Serrena Gragg6 years ago in Poets
Aversion
Each piece you read is a piece of me. My style changes with my mind and my words might bite but can't always rhyme. And I find magic in the aftermath of being tongue twisted and tied.
By Tink6 years ago in Poets
What to say
Idk idk idk idk what to say to you Theres so much I could say, but how much time? I could tell you I love you, but what’s the use
By Taylor Kaigler6 years ago in Poets
Making ends meet
Setting on a course not to use only force A better shirt could be had Would that just drive someone mad A million can be equated
By Bruce Underwood6 years ago in Poets
Good, Bad, Ugly
Let's tell a story, untold yet popular A 10 year old going through what most don't understand It's so weird it took drama to open his tongue
By Harydo Neon6 years ago in Poets
The Depths of My Black
Black, As deep as the moon’s horizons Black, As deep as the depths of my nurture Black, The kiss of melanin that is blessed upon my gentle skin
By Ke'auna James6 years ago in Poets
When My Mom Tries to Make Sure I'm Not Biting My Nails
When my mom tries to make sure I’m not biting my nails, she evaluates my mental health. Taking note of all the names transmitted over phone calls within the past month. Her sentences fill with just make sure’s and as long as’s. As if addiction is easier to swallow if I stopped enjoying the taste of fingers to teeth, As if gnawing away at my mistakes, hoping an even nail will even out my breath. As if my mind doesn’t re-play my anxieties in HD. As if you are ashamed of anxiety personifying the mommy daughter relationship you always prayed for.
By Asya Fields6 years ago in Poets
Abundant faith
What if Jimi Hendrix had survived? What if terrorism were not contrived? Would Colin Powell have been President? And I never be allowed to be "resident"?
By Bruce Underwood6 years ago in Poets