performance poetry
Performance Poetry is poetry out loud; poems brought from the page to the stage.
Should I Depart Early. Top Story - September 2026.
Should I Depart Early, please do not fret For almost a certainty I’m home, tucked in bed Should you search there and find me gone It’s fair to say I rose again And walked along Off to the garden Off a beaten path Follow me Toward the endless sea Should I depart early Seek a quiet place Like a stone So merrily do we roll Unsettled in our grace I likely took time To reflect on these rhymes A simple moment Fleeting, unfamiliar In these vapid times. Should I depart early Think of it not in terror We so often find silence harrowing Instead take heed And mire in its pleasure Should I depart early I might have flown away, But don't be weary We’ll find each other Some other day
By Matthew J. Fromm2 months ago in Poets
Plenty. Top Story - September 2026.
It's a delicacy to come home to a government-made meal Of debt collectors and voicemails from the friendly lady Who keeps offering, offering, offering to cut my arm off In exchange for a penny, pebbles, and a rusted Coke can. Tastes so fucking good to sink my teeth into the propaganda. 'Designed with you in mind,' is truer than I used to think. Pop a pill to keep the spam away because the message is more Important than the messenger and the discomfort combined. They want me here, plastered to the pleather couch, trapped. And I want to be here, swiping through uncanny faces, Looking for something real enough to light a spark of life Inside the hallways of my brain (what's left of it at least). It doesn't scratch the itch. That's not surprising though, is it, since they planted their Invisible seeds in my pores and have watered my skin for Years waiting for the moment that I grow a little too itchy And claw myself apart, bleed out in their front yards. Or maybe I could buy something to turn the itch into a pain, Then pick a little something up to dull the agony and then All I'll have to deal with is regular old heartache and insomnia. Plenty of pretty little pills for those things though; plenty, plenty. Is pain easier to deal with than this unscratchable itch? Maybe it is, maybe it isn't, but sitting here in the glow of blue TV screens and blue phones and blue fucking fridge screens Isn't doing what they swore and promised it would.
By Silver Daux2 months ago in Poets
midnight musings
staring at the moon so intently it doubles vision wanders with thought the others staring at the moon this witching hour brings the ponderers do they also exclaim I am a facet of the all I am a separate piece of a whole so I can know of self and others to feel less alone staring at the moon because knowing I am the observer of the moon and also the moon is far too great a loneliness to bear are we all asking why am I here or are others more assured than I the isolation of ego could kill
By Lolly Vieira2 months ago in Poets
