slam team 2008.

Monday Meeting, April 13th fold-over poem

Being late is not a joke

One time my dad was screaming furiously because my mom was late once

I ate lunch, then my dog scraped the hinges off my fences,

these thoughts leave trenches, my dog is not a female but i still yelled,

“get off me bitch!”

Then She wrapped a metal-pole around my throat

because i was being an anti-feminist asshole

and there’s nothing worse than that, right?

Fathers, keep your daughters in at night,

those anti-feminist asshole are out in droves

just searching for women to offend

And the girls are out there looking to hurt them back 

just like warfare and highschool:

Everyone walks out dazed and not really sure what home looks like

Returning is helpless, like bus rides without smoking sections

like reunions where you only remember how you needed to forget faces,

college can make you forget what shelter feels like

So we bury ourselves in dunes of Failure 

Like we could push our remains out of our bodies

This is intellectual excriment,

and nobody wants to deal with that shit.

on fasterbation...

I’ve never even touched a clitar…

Chris Milea

On arranged marriage...

Dreams are evolutionary things that help us adapt to scenarios that we aren’t ready for…

-Chris Milea

Fold-over poem

this was the fold-over poem from this past wednesday’s RPM.  We decided to do something new, and each only write three words, though some people wrote a little more

~~~

Hammer me like that.  Then do 

business wit the goldminer. Write me an 

epitaph for love and a massacre

to erase it

like a chalkboard

radiating hamburger grease

falling outta nostrils

getting caught in a mustache

covered in old crusty food

we used to need food to survive

still do moron

except we slowly realize we all share the stomach

we share intestines, digest my glove compartment

eat areas i hid my registration along with who i was

like i am vehicle

virgin poem

so i rewrote this poem…6 times now…

i cut it from 4:40 to 3:30 and i’m stuck!

i need a good 30-40 seconds cut off so please tell me what is working for you and what is not..

In the 5^th grade, Ms. Goetz’s class

I asked every one at my table

If they were virgins

After hearing on T.V. the day before (I hate how awk this part is but idk what to do with it because I feel like I should include why I asked them so its not so random?) help!

I can’t remember anyone’s response

But I do remember being kept after class

And Ms. Goetz asking me if I remembered the “V” word I had used in class that day

Like it was the “F” bomb.

I denied it.

My naive lips

Spewed honesty too innocent to know that “virgin” was a word that you don’t say

And you certainly don’t ask people if they are

From an early age we are taught to find our individuality in

Polly pocket fairytales

Malibu Barbie

Press on nails

And pinky promise secrets

Yet we all end up the same

Because the jeans that maria has every other 12 year old girl wants

And the shoes that missy has every other 16 year old girl has

And the virginity that every other 20 year old has lost

I have, and a lot 20 year olds want back.

I also have an astounding turn-away rate of about 70% when guys hear I won’t put out

To them, I am one of five things

a) a psycho

b) prude

c) secretly gay

d) secretly a man

e) lying

After evaluating me for a minute or two,

They usually settle with option e…lying

Then proceed to laugh in my face.

Because there is no way that a girl with boobs that big can be a virgin

Because all girls with big boobs are sluts.

Are my tits too big for you to take my poetry seriously?

To take me, seriously?

Because I know that you stopped listening to me right after I told you I was a virgin

Who the hell wants to talk about virginity?

That’s boring!

We want to talk about sex

Sex, drugs, rock and roll, blow jobs, roofies, rape, sex, cow girl, reverse cow girl, bestiality and sex

Don’t get me wrong

If you have lost your virginity already

I’m not judging you

….you sluts

But at 20 years old, you are supposed to have lost your virginity

Whether it was a romantic blood sacrifice to your first boyfriend who you thought you truly loved

Or if it was on the bathroom floor in a stranger’s house

Are we all just strangers?

Fucking of self-validation?

Fucking instead of suicide?

We’re capable of controlling our own fertility when it’s hiding in corners and closets like confession booths for holy water renewal

“born again virgins”

You can’t return that shit like it’s a pair of pants

When your feeling reused

Worn

Acid-washed

Cum stained

Walk of shame

Remembrance

Of truth moaning his name

Those unborn sons that you have wasted

When you were wasted

When you were looking for something more

On that strangers bathroom floor

Don’t tell me you didn’t like it

I’ve never had to sharpie droplets onto cheekbones to get people to listen

But I’ve never had to tell people that I believe in God for them to stop listening

Because they all eventually do anyway

I have never met my biological father

He left my mother when he found out she was pregnant with me

The bastard child

I am filthily laden with his DNA

Though I have never seen a picture of him

And I do not remember what my mother told me his name was

And I do not care to ask

When people ask me why I am waiting

I want to tell them my story

Tell them to be careful

Make sure they know that I am not judging them

Tell them that sex is just virginity with its clothes stripped off

Standing naked and raw

Waiting for you to make the next move

Waiting for you to dip your hands in the pockets of my things

Dimpled skin

Tarnished silver dollar reminders

Of what it feels like

To be weak

Pock mark

Pot hole

Reminder of an empty space

That never was

When here you’re just eating to find my insides

It’s just this time

Filling my holes

Won’t make me feel more complete

fold over 5

This is a fun pen

But it will never help me choose a word

It will never help me put action into verbs

Descriptions will never make me conform to using adjectives

As anything more than early morn strolling companion…

Chill,

Dew dipped,

Empty layer of the world

Blanketed with soft words, shock absorber

Friction fighting false façades

But they aren’t controlling the illusions that lay beneath your lids

And the waves that smash your shores will not reach you

As long as you keep everything stored in the tower above the rocks

I’ll forever guide you down the flat world

Drifting toward the eternal waterfall

The world can’t stop if we’re still writing about it

Our pens dictating existence like we possess the hand of God,

The world is our oyster. EAT IT!

fold over 4

Sliding helplessly along silicone streets

Try to stop, to slow down, but there’s no tread on my feet

Soulless on beds of fire, we walk tirelessly

Pushing through the pain like relief was on the other end

But no one is light hearted at the end of the tunnel

They’ve seen too much

Morals are peripheral instead of optical

I can only imagine life through terrorist’s eyes

Each breath a chapter in a book that you know will end

Self-effacing until you’re not, significance in the hands of the author

Writing with dulling pencils and thoughts

Pushing on to forced endings

Pushing fate off your chest

Allowing new perceptions of self respect to apply to more than interpersonal relationships

fold over 3

Play us your song tiny white piano man

Show us big things can come from little places

Show us big fish can survive in colossal oceans

Where fins get replaced by currents, and profile eyes meet horizontally

On the day break that bursts between our solar plexus fate

Will you remember our snow angel tomorrows in the flattened grass while we wait?

Or will you feel that something heavy, and invisible

As it strokes your cheek with fingers so used to being forgotten

As hard as it is to say as a poet in times like this

You must let your eyes speak

Beautiful doves flocking through your pupils

Let your birthmarks shed God’s signature when he co-signed your heartbeat

Like a snake skin memory

Refoiling itself out of the skin it wore like promise

Like, promise me you shed like the rest of us

Because not everyone sees stars when they look at you and sometimes I worry

fold over 2

He could feel the push and pull of open palms

Moistened like relief, facing the sun as an offering to Zeus

No God can know the feeling of all mortality in one moment

Joy is only palpable to those who know regret

And regret is only palpable to those who know change

Gaining momentum to those who know starting, push

If legends never die, then release the cords strapped to my heart

If it continues beating, then observe the seconds before the burial cures us all

They are hollow in the wake of forever

Stagnant in the forgotten beats of its melody

But moving calmly through the waves of silence,

Our memory can be only as good as our powers of observation

And the company we keep

And what they point at for us to see

Using red dots to teach lessons, I camouflage into silver linings

Covered by clouds stalking, wonder if cerebrals have o-zones

Layered like a thin coat of icing

We’re just hoping you won’t break through this time