performance poetry
Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
Love is...
I regret my inability to overcome the pain of all my disappointments. So I try to live without expectation and there by maintain a threadbare existence. To simply live and to simply give. To look beyond the story of suffering into the truth of love and all the joy that is contained in the overwhelming currents of intimate connection. The story of Shama is the story of myself. The story of the peaceful goddess who exploded into a myriad of pieces and somehow each piece found itself and grew itself a new whole until the old reflection was no longer broken. But complete and unified in its own power. For itself, by itself, this is the nature of my soul. And if you are its reflection than yours too. For I am as timeless as the history of cosmic motion. Universe without beginning and without end. I call upon your higher self to trust again. To suspend all beliefs and concepts and simply trust in the unfathomable depths of each living breath. For it is in the breath that true being emerges. All else is just the containment and therefore sacred only in so far as it reveals the core.
By Crystal Pearl7 years ago in Poets
10 Things You Need To Know Before You Even Consider Loving Me
1. I love cats If I were an animal, I would be a cat Adventurous yet lazy Loving yet independent I love cats so much that if we are ever to live together you should not be surprised when I bring one home
By Emily Caldwell7 years ago in Poets
Fathom
I can't think of how some people think that rape culture and body-shaming is alright, Not when just the other day, his little sister cried saying that people are calling her a slut because she sent a pair of boobs to her boyfriend-not even her pair of boobs,
By Bridget Meier7 years ago in Poets
I Know My Bottles Are Loved So Much
I know why bottles are loved so much. Bottles and humans have so much in common. Each bottle is unique. No bottles of cider are ever the same. The name of the brand. The fruit of their nationality. The beauty within. The thrills many seek. Pour its soul in a glass. And another one. And another one. Cheers with a cling.
By Chloe Gilholy7 years ago in Poets