performance poetry
Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
The Legend of Two Golden Guns Pedro
Straw wide hat and a thin mustache The charm is emphasized by his evil laugh Flicker a smile with a golden tooth Old worn pistols beside a flute
Alexander CandlinPublished 7 years ago in PoetsI Cut My Hair Today.
There's not a day this month I have not slouched over gazing at the strands of my hair that hang over my shoulders reaching far down to my waist.
Victims
By David S Avner aka Sevasdog Evil deeds heart of man, Soul of a woman I don’t understand What makes us evil What makes us good
David AvnerPublished 7 years ago in PoetsLucy
I see life in a maze, haunted or just plain. Came across a fairytale, but she flew away. I haven't seen her since, since then, things don't make sense. Maybe a dollar or two, so chill "why you hollering, boo?" Kicked off my shoes and start hollering, too. I see life in a maze, running, or walking through. I wonder how my coffin feels... Do you? Woody, sandy, or does it smell like the color blue? Who knows, and who knew? Life's a puzzle that doesn't stay together, no glue... I've seen and flown through most of you, I don't want to laugh no need to make a joke of you. No joker here, all love and mixed faces, no poker here. Don't provoke the man that never spoke. Feeling the sight and smelling your fear. The devil is coming... I think he's here. No dramatics, just carefully planned tactics hard as a dump truck, sharper then a cactus. All truths here, no acting. This'll actually happen. He will find you with your family and upon one of them you're smacking. He'll find you in deep sleep or when you're napping, in your favorite place to eat after you made a mess a started dabbing your napkin. He will find you in heaven skipping around, he'll find you in hell adopting a puppy from a pound. He'll be there while you're spending cash or pounds. No worries beautiful people, he's never been found. Dyslexic, but don't put me out for the count. I can't afford it, but don't say I can't amount. You have 28 grams... Well I have an ounce. You pounded, I pounced. I float, you fly. You shed tears, I cry. You have sliding glasses, I have doors. No matter how less, no matter how more, this world is ours... Your favorite store. - JOSH
Because I (Don't) Love You
As I closed my eyes I could hear the raindrops sing, I could hear the wind whistling “it’s going to be okay” “it’s all over now”
Amanda ClaudiaPublished 7 years ago in PoetsSimilar Adventure
I’ve walked an unfamiliar path, one you’ve probably walked before. This morning I woke to the sound of birds, the sound I’m sure you’ve heard outside your door. I’ve walked and I’ve seen what some have done and saw before, but that doesn’t stop my wandering eye from wanting someone’s similar adventure even more.
Alison LemonPublished 7 years ago in PoetsTo Life (So Far)
The world in a complicated time Where we surround ourselves with friends and enemies Where we make mistakes that scar our souls
Raiden StarkPublished 7 years ago in PoetsHow My Life Has Been
🤔 Sit the fuck down while I tell you a story, It's kinda bout somethin with doin some laundry, I did what ever I could to keep them happy,
Melissa GilbertPublished 7 years ago in PoetsClutter
It's happening again. The constant mutter in my mind, the dancing tremble down my spine. The replication and dismantilation of my life, from another point of view. Is it happening again? Did it stop? Or did I stop noticing until now? My mind is shot. My mind is sharp. My mind darts, around a room, around a space I can't seem to place. Maybe it's a memory, a dream, real life? What is real anymore? Am I real? It sounds crazy maybe far-fetched but I question it sometimes. Am I alive? Is this life? Is this the last 10 seconds of my life where I see everything flash by quickly but slow at the same time? Am I a dream? When reality is a thin line you jump rope with, it all bends together into a fucked up sculpture. When a touch in the dark alone feels the same as a touch of the one you call home do you tremble? When the touch in the dark makes you remember the touch within your parts, do you cry? Does it make you die every time the breath lingers on your neck? Can you smell your past? Like a recipe you can't remember do you taste the innocence? Does the rush of first blood salivate at your lips? Can you pull out, like the thread that tames you? Will you remember which side of the line you were on when you get there?
Sara DudleyPublished 7 years ago in PoetsFollowing Mentor
I am a mentor, Or that is the word that some have used to describe me When all I can think of to describe them is — a friend, human.
Esther ShpilmanPublished 7 years ago in PoetsMentor
My mentor once told me That I write using too many metaphors And maybe I should just say what I mean. Maybe it was that my mental state
Esther ShpilmanPublished 7 years ago in PoetsBleak
Silence is the ever wonder of the universe Many feel to fill it with white noise That they think they are different! But where is the difference in people?
Lauren JamesPublished 7 years ago in Poets