slam poetry
Slam poetry: that magical mix of rhythm and rhyme.
Running From Reality
My eyes are closed I keep them shut For fear that everything will vanish The moment I break their seal It is sometimes entirely easy for me to forget how blessed the earth I touch can be
Stephen Chan WahPublished 2 years ago in PoetsOur Family Bed
Our dog sheds nonstop. Flurry of fluff floating through air particles Part of the inhale (Our clothes, our food) But he always has place on our bed
Oneg In The ArcticPublished 2 years ago in PoetsComfort In The Sun.
Don’t get me wrong! I know that the world doesn't revolve around me but.. I wish that the sun did. I know that it doesn’t rise and fall at my command but..
Tasjanah AndersonPublished 2 years ago in PoetsAn overly devoted Junkie's Addiction
Comfort... Comfort It is known. It is found... Comfort... Comfort It can keep us imprisoned. It can keep us impounded.
Thavien YliasterPublished 2 years ago in PoetsPathetic
Pathetic. I’m pathetic. I am. You call me a liar, but I didn’t lie. You say I love it, the drama. Maybe. Maybe I like the feeling of having all eyes on me, because it’s the one way to get all eyes on me. I’m fun and give people attention, your words. I’m fun. And everyone wants someone fun. That’s everyone’s words, whether they say them aloud or not. Why would you want someone sad who feels pain and has insecurities. Why would you want someone who talks about these things.
Andrew DominguezPublished 2 years ago in Poetsautistic lunch break
I'm trying not to panic on my lunch break again Trying to come off as normal-brained to restrain from stimming and making myself look weird
Therapy
I thought it would be easy being in therapy I have had counsellors / social workers since I was 11 I am used to talking to people about my trauma
Minhal KahloonPublished 2 years ago in PoetsThe Forgotten Queen
The Forgotten Queen It all started with dark eyes and a sinister smile That seemed pretty innocent to me In the Beginning
Comfort in Despair
The game of life is rigged Death always wins Crawling on our fins Now obsessed with our sins From the dawn of rain
Atomic HistorianPublished 2 years ago in PoetsHow long
How long will I wait? How long will I drag myself through the mud before I realize the hands waiting for me to finally take the bait.
Challenge
What challenge isn’t a challenge? Mind fully divided. The earth is flat Prove me right or wrong, The motion is circular.
Shane HarringtonPublished 2 years ago in PoetsNaps for Laps
In the mid-morning hours after dawn I would hear a rumbling on the lawn Out the window I saw two types of green One of grass, the other machine
Thavien YliasterPublished 2 years ago in Poets