Slam poetry: that magical mix of rhythm and rhyme.
I am not a delicate creature
I am not a delicate creature I am clumsy I am loud I laugh too boldly I love too hard I sing off key I have never had any desire to be considered a delicate creature
Once in awhile it hits me It hits me harder than you used to. Your bruised ego was all it took, Less stroked than usual.
I write this as the tears roll down my cheeks Not knowing what to say or how to even speak You were the one who brought me up
Love Her Right
These lames need to stay in their lane We are nothing alike not remotely the same They sitting the bench, I'm coaching the game
I can still hear the 4 train passing by Yankee Stadium The city has more noise than 20 crowded gymnasiums The screeching noise of the track, High school boys by the packs
EMPTY BAG OF CHIPS
I asked Mike and Bill for something to eat, but they said no while snacking on their treat, But when they were gone, Looked in their bags for kicks,
FRED DURST The crowd is silent and still, They wait patiently for his words, There was a time we all listened, Traveled to hear in herds,
One moment fleeting intense, passionate, filled with desire. Hands gripping her waist he pulls her closer as they draw near heartbeats begin to race
Social media got nothing but clones It’s nothing but people saying they on their own But all they do is copy the person before them post
I Carry Your Heart With Me by E.E.Cummings - Poetry Reading
About the poet -- Edward Estlin Cummings (1894 -- 1962) was an American poet, painter, essayist, author, and playwright. He was born in Cambridge, Massachusetts, USA. Cummings' poetry often deals with themes of love and nature, as well as the relationship of the individual to the masses and to the world. Modernism prevailed major part of his work.
He’s The Man
Building 360 miles of the border wall was a dumd move, your administration should of refused. Even more so that hate, in your face and their face it was literally rascism, where’s the grace you have too much money too end up in prison, ha. The media should of cancelled you a long time ago, did you do the same to your flow of hair, is that a fro I don’t know; or you just straight wiggin’ it, ya dig it? You see God ain’t rascist, the people want your replacement, Lucifer was the first rascist, and on the streets all you see is blacks left with shell cases.
Pretty is a thief in the night. Pretty is a thing women need to fight. Pretty steals our humanity, It robs us of sanity,