slam poetry
Slam poetry: that magical mix of rhythm and rhyme.
Walker World
What do you feel when you touch her hands? nothing I answered, physically I have never felt them, Because when I touch her I don’t feel her hands,
Kelsey ForjanPublished 7 years ago in PoetsDeeper Than Rap
Dear black rap artist's of the game yes you the ones who sold your souls to inherit the fortune and fame You the ones whose lyrics are so toxic that it injects poison into my people's brain as you continue to deceive millions for a profit in order to establish a platform and name
Latoia DunnPublished 7 years ago in PoetsI'm a Whore
hi, I’m a whore but no, sex will never boost my self esteem as I constantly slope deeper into depression just because you think its my profession
Ellie BelmontePublished 7 years ago in PoetsAce Over King
You say you're a fighter, Never to back down. You say you're the alpha male, Standing above all. You say you're Superman,
Ashley Van EckPublished 7 years ago in Poets18 Years Later
18 years later, you try again. You come back in my life, Trying to make amends. With one simple sweep, I let you in. Though I know in my heart,
Serrena GraggPublished 7 years ago in PoetsThe Angry Black Girl
No, you cannot touch my hair, No, you cannot stare, I am not an animal in a zoo, But I’m often mistaken as one by you Mistaken as that loud, sassy, nappy haired black girl over there,
Homebody HippyPublished 7 years ago in PoetsHuman Zoo
A dance of pink flamingo on a rope. Preposterous? Daw solving a math problem, Rabbit reading metaphysical books, Mouse boiling exquisite dishes,
niki majchalajduPublished 7 years ago in PoetsDreams of the Rambling Mind
I. Consciousness and logic swim through the endless void, disconnected through disjointed synapses and chemical imbalances.
Kourtney RisherPublished 7 years ago in PoetsMusic, My Therapist
Some days I just bleed how I feel with music. Unable to voice my thoughts, the vocals and lyrics battle the voice or fog that resides in my head for the day. There is a deep connection with music that I can not explain. Light is shined on the issue at hand, to dissect it. Music just seems to say the right things that others sometimes don't say, whispering the demons for the day away. Like a best friend that knows you inside and out. There are no questions, no couch, and no office. It's just you and the music.
Melanin
From the night in her skin to kink of her hair The sun in her smile to the stars in those eyes I know that Melanin is beautiful
D'Nessa McDanielPublished 7 years ago in PoetsWe're Just Lines In Your Pockets
You point at us and laugh and say that we’re trash while you make cash from the blood of our sons, wash the stains from your hands, and sweep up the ash.
Kourtney RisherPublished 7 years ago in PoetsThe Unravelling
Unravel your discord of frustration which was meant for our cordial fruition. This has now been vexed a-side, b-side the sea side, inside a hollow shell of truthful slander and a damnation that is to be forever bound by this umbilical fixation of asphyxiation.
Ryan HooperPublished 7 years ago in Poets