slam poetry
Slam poetry: that magical mix of rhythm and rhyme.
To Love After Tearing Your Heart Out
As they cut the arteries in my chest they broke my heart for the first time, They cut and stitched and frankensteined my heart together,
Treasures of the Mind
The idea master. The conductor of productivity. Just a little manufacturing needed. A, B, C, D AnD even more. Just iDeas AnD then we folD.
Crissy DXCIIPublished 7 years ago in PoetsA Prologue
The first time A boy ever told me he loved me and “meant it,” I said “Thanks” He’s babbling on, won’t shut the hell up, and I’m thinking
Ash MartinezPublished 7 years ago in PoetsShituation
Her, Him, he, she, them, us, we… Sometimes I wish it wasn't right. Or even meant to be. You see, I been mean While I was asking, “what you mean?"
Crissy DXCIIPublished 7 years ago in PoetsEmptiness
Do you process easily? I thought about this question Over and over. Questioning. This quest I must get before it… becomes a questioning.
Crissy DXCIIPublished 7 years ago in PoetsThe Slam Poetry
Much can be said about poetry. Structure, rhymes, and play on words. All part of the poetry directory. Much less than calling it direct to me.
Crissy DXCIIPublished 7 years ago in PoetsUnderstand Why
Young yes. But, I understand many things in life. Like… relationships, taxes, money, health… Working class, and even being a wife.
Crissy DXCIIPublished 7 years ago in PoetsHiding Behind Bars
He saw his own shadow. It was a continuous reminder of his past. When he looked down, he saw his father, The one he never knew, but was resurrected by Malcolm’s autobiography.
Naima BartholomewPublished 7 years ago in PoetsBurning Lies
Burning inside and it never comes out. I never let it. This is why you all think I am normal. In my head I'm a robot, a tick…
Crissy DXCIIPublished 7 years ago in PoetsI am Beautiful
He told me yes, I am beautiful I am as beautiful as God made me. I would look in the mirror counting, 1, 2 and 3 Eyes, nose, lips and skin all wonderful.
Crissy DXCIIPublished 7 years ago in PoetsStrangers
We’re all just strangers Trapped in a world of dangers Put behind the pit of the street Just for the rhyme of a beat No, before we were seen
Michael RossPublished 7 years ago in PoetsLet Me Be Me
years have been spent, where no matter what my intent... the protective walls and barriers that once stood so tall...have become nothing left, but dust meant to fall.
Jennifer PetersenPublished 7 years ago in Poets