slam poetry
Slam poetry: that magical mix of rhythm and rhyme.
She Is so Fat
“She is so fat” They said without the slightest bat Of an eye. They don’t care if it makes her cry. They just want to feel power
Michaela MartinPublished 6 years ago in PoetsWhat's So Funny?
A cut, a "beautiful art." As I watch and fall apart. Left piece by piece, till I'm another sharp edge to kill the peace. A pill, a trip to the hills as it takes us to a place we thought we'd never see, because we never thought it could kill the hoping dreams.
Music Is Life
Me, I refrain myself from relating to what I see so I relate to what I hear. In the moments where I am drowning in fear, self- hate, anxiety, music comes just in time to revive me. Survive me, the world laughs. And I laugh right back thinking each step as a note and each hardship as a flat one, I surpass it because it doesn't stop...
An Out of Mind Perspective
It's the criminally minded that fascinate me the most, So here's where I propose a toast. To all these thieves that think they're ghosts,
Ode to an Existentialist
My past, present, and future. Twisted into the lines on my palm, hidden between the words I speak. Who am I? Who can I be? Where do I want to find myself?
Ayesha JavedPublished 6 years ago in PoetsMirror Talk
Looking into the mirror what do I see? I see a beautiful smart woman looking at me I see pain behind her hazel eyes I see sadness behind her smile
Siana LovePublished 6 years ago in PoetsHow Glorious to be All Draped In Gold
Look at us, all draped in gold. Had the street lights ever shone so bright? In you, i found what i failed to in myself.
Ayesha JavedPublished 6 years ago in PoetsMemories
When I make memories I don’t worry about preserving them, Making something tangible out of them; mementos. I feel as if it takes you away from the moment itself.
Ayesha JavedPublished 6 years ago in PoetsWho the Fuck Am I?
Who the fuck am I??? What the FUCK, am I supposed to be doing?! INTERROBANG!!!!! I like the weirdest shit. I do the weirdest shit.
Haley WardPublished 6 years ago in PoetsCereal Killer
It was dawn, And all Fruit were Loops, And the Cookies were Crisp. The silly rabbit knew Trix were for kids, And knives were not to be played with.
Valerie HoltPublished 6 years ago in PoetsWeird People
College Students College students are weird. They start studying when the days draw near; Literally two days before the final day,
Zvikomborero MareesaPublished 6 years ago in PoetsMy Youth
Inside of me is a light undimmable, untamable, untouchable. Outside me is a fight and, they have brought their best men. They are trying to capture me, to confuse me and use me;
Zvikomborero MareesaPublished 6 years ago in Poets