slam

This is the real me...

or, this is the fake me.

Both me,

same me.

You too, all you. Read more »

It's the lub-dub, lub-dub, flutter and murmur,

it's the tick-tock, tick-tock, finger-tapping stutter,

it's a clenched jaw, tooth grinder, lub-dub, tick-tock,

belly-flutter, heartbeat, fingernail nibble

knuckle-cracking, lip-biting, luba-dub-dub and

breathe

it's the toe-tapping, finger snapping,

lub-dub, tick tock

knuckle cracking, molars clacking

through the hair the nails' running

waiting on a break, and

breathe

inhale, exhale, belly-flutter, throat mutter,

nail picking, hair flipping, rhythm of my nerves

breathe

seat-shifting, neck cracking, knuckles, and a tick-tock

lub-dub

breathe

  Read more »

you love me most when I am 

drunk with poetry, words

singing through my veins and slipping through my

teeth with all the grace of falling

stars;

they crumble to dust as you touch them.

you can see them coursing through my bloodstream,

burning my arteries and singing through my 

veins--I

weep with the power in these words,

I feel them coursing through my blood,

vermillion letters shimmering through my

mind; ash through my fingers,

and I try to clutch them but they fade before meaning

forms.

you love me most when I stand in the 

shadow of the treetops, and you can see the stars tangled in my 

hair, moonlight trapped in the curve of my

spine, breezes flowing through my 

fingertips,

and you can feel the fire behind my eyes,

scorching,

burning away the truth they shoved down your

throat, because 

darling, lies are beautiful and

darling, we were never young enough to believe them,

they were dust under our bare feet,

running,

running,

sprinting through fire, and

ashes in our mouths, and 

darling, those ashes never saved your

soul, so why should

I?

You love me most in the moments between love and

loss, the half-truths shining between your teeth,

the moments when the stars slow their

circles because darling,

we never needed to hear the harpstrings of a universe Read more »

You love me most when I am high on poetry,

words coursing through my veins and

falling through my teeth like diamonds,

melting to dust when you touch them.  

You love me most when I am standing

in the doorway of a gazebo with the stars 

caught in my hair, holding the moon in my hand

with a half-smile and your leather jacket

reflecting the fire that lights your eyes.

You love me most when you can see the

spirit in my eyes struggling to wind the

clockwork of the stars, shift the tuning pegs to

slow their heavenly rotation to give me another

moment, another

breath, another

kiss, another

flutter of your eyelashes against my cheeks.

Shh--you're home, my love.

This place means safety.

Here, you have no pain,
                                            no pain.

You feel only the smooth bark under your fingertips, 

the wind through the leaves.

Shh--you're home, my love.

You hear no human voices here--

only the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind,

blood rushing in your ears,

the scrape of rubber soles on bark.

Shh--you're home, my love.

Let the golden warmth of the sun guide you--

the green light through the leaves mapping out your path, 

cracks in the bark leading you upward and onward.

Shh--you're home, my love.

Each birdcall, each scrape of boot, reminds you.

Climb higher, my love, this place means safety.

Feel the dizzying rush of height, 

the tree swaying around you.

Remember when life was simple--

think only of the next branch, the next step.

Let yourself grow silent, my love--

let your mind melt into the tree,

feel its connection to sun and earth and sky,

feel the roots interlocking with the world,

the fluttering leaves.

Focus on the harsh breeze, my love--

a cleansing, washing away soil and pain.

This place means you are safe, my love.

Shh--you're home. 

It was fun while it lasted.

I tried not to cry, 

I didn't want you to know how sad I was when you

were forced away from me by the very force of nature itself.

I faked happiness.

I still am.

Every day is just another day I wake up and remember that I live alone

because you're no longer there beside me.

And every day is just a struggle to follow my dreams like you would have wanted me to even though

they're not worth following without you.

And every day is another thousand tears cried at night

because if I cried them during the day someone might hear.

In the time I knew you, you swiftly became my one and only friend,

and even though I have other friends now they mean nothing

because you're not here to cheer me on.

You once asked how I'm so happy all the time and

I never told you but it's because you were there beside me.

I could stay happy because you were my reason to.

And now my reason is gone and I'm living.

I'm living without you.

It was hard to give you up but I had to

pretend like I was okay because I didn't

want you to worry and I

wanted you to go back to your loved ones.

That's why I stayed away from you that night.

I let you go.

But over the course of time you've become more important to me

than the blood in my veins,

more nessicary than the oxygen I breathe.

I would give my life just to be your friend again Read more »

Your Little Girl

I promised you I would always be your little girl

With a flaming imagination and excitement for life

But you feel me slipping away into the world Read more »

In a forced gulp

a slimy mushed up blob slowly and reluctantly

slides down my throat.

My body reacts ready to throw it out

like an unwelcome visitor. 

With dessert on the line

another red shiny hard

sphere is plopped in my mouth,

just sitting there, not wanting to be opened.

Finally, with determination it explodes due to the chomping of teeth.

I seal my mouth closed, wanting at any moment to send the mushy mess onto the floor. Read more »

You complain of pain.

What do you know of pain?

Whenever you fall there's always fifty people ready to pick you up and

tell you that everything's going to be okay and

that you're beautiful.

When I fall,

I get up on my own lest I

die in the cold.

Or starve because

no one would bother to help me up.

You complain of abandonment,

but what do you know of it?

You may know the feeling of being abandoned by a few people

but you don't know the pain of being abandoned by everyone

you care about and realizing that

you were never anything more to them than a person

to help them when they still needed you

and that they found people who can fill their needs far better than you ever could.

You complain of loneliness,

but what do you know about those Friday nights

spent praying that someone would call, even if only a telemarketer,

just so you have someone to talk to?

Of knowing that no one will call,

of putting your phone number in graffiti just hoping that one day

someone will find it in stall three in the girl's bathroom and

call just to find out who it is.

You complain of your trust issues,

but what do you know about them?

When you have at least one confidant,

a best friend.

And here I am nuzzled in my own world

because at least the people in my head

can't leave me like you can.

You complain about those nights when I went crazy, Read more »

You are still thinking about him.

You realize it every time you search for his name in your chat list.

It's all right there, first and last,

and you laugh to yourself because he never knew

that you could have told him his first name if he had just asked you.

and you realize it when you look down and his name is written on your hand

in Sharpie-black letters that you tried to convince yourself

were not written lovingly,

and you realize it when you dream

of the way he would dance when he got excited.

The way he said,

"Loves it,"

when you had a brilliant idea,

and of all the fresh answers he would give to his own questions.

Because it takes a lot of thought-dwelling

for him to act like himself in your subconscious.

And you want to click on his name

and commence the longing

and you want to circle him in hearts on your skin,

but all the while yelling to anyone who fails to see him for who he is,

that "I have never been in love.

How do you expect me to explain an intimate relationship between me

and a friend/not-friend/not-lover-but-I-wish-that-the-option-weren't-so-wrong?"

[Beat]

Your dreams?

They're getting more intense.

You try   every   few   hours

to remember that first time he hugged you

just so you can have security in knowing that you will never forget. Read more »

It's only ever me,

getting in the way of me,

because every time you walk in the room,

you remind me that you're perfect

you remind me that I'm not you

you fill me with your voice and as I sit and write what you've asked me to,

I see your arms wave and your fingers form a gun

that's just about ready to aim.

But then I can hear your accent in my head,

the sound of the click of the trigger

and every piece of pain I have ever felt is being dumped on me

and I convince myself

that they were suspended there all along.

But that hope you grant to me

in rations so small I can barely pick them apart before I've used them up

for one night

on one moment before I go to sleep

on one second of impulse and passion and risk that I know I'll learn to regret someday,

that hope is my addiction.

Not the taste of decomposition in my mouth,

not the endorphins that find their way to every wound and dare them to heal seamlessly,

not your body or your smile but your words,

your example and your living, breathing persona.

That's what I need

that's what I have needed since I died again in September

and I can ask you where you've been all my life

but you will shake your head

and cover your ears

because you came running when I needed you.

I wish I could falter like you

pick myself up and crumble again

and again and a-get it right

and push everyone back in their seats, Read more »

Er(Sorry if this offends anyone. This is combination of an old poem and homework assignment)
America believes in freedom
But really is that true?
With freedom that requires equality
Sadly though this hasnt been accepted.
People say everyone is equal, really they are not.
Think of people in love.

Love is love
Love to me is a connection between two people
True love is between two souls coming together
Not between what gender you are
What body parts you have
But the connection between two lovely people
Love is indescribable
Love is love
Love can be heart braking
Love can be amazing
So why must we judge people for who they love?
A guy and a guy in love
Or a girl and a girl in love
Verses a guy and girl
Do we have to judge how they made their soul connections
What their heats fell in love with
No, we dont have to judge them
Its their life, their soul, their love
So we shouldnt judge each other
Let people find their true love with whoever it may be.

My question is, will America ever see
That equality should just happened because its meant to be?
Will America ever know people who suffer
Because of what they arent allowed to show?
It doesnt affect you in anyway
Let people love who they want
And live their own way.
As people seem to say, you only live once
Well why not let them live with the one they love.
The one they want to have those memories with.
Discrimination, hate crimes, threats
These are what those people get
For being with the person they love.
Just think about it America,
What happens if you cant be with the Read more »

Er(Sorry if this offends anyone. This is combination of an old poem and homework assignment)
America believes in freedom
But really is that true?
With freedom that requires equality
Sadly though this hasnt been accepted.
People say everyone is equal, really they are not.
Think of people in love.

Love is love
Love to me is a connection between two people
True love is between two souls coming together
Not between what gender you are
What body parts you have
But the connection between two lovely people
Love is indescribable
Love is love
Love can be heart braking
Love can be amazing
So why must we judge people for who they love?
A guy and a guy in love
Or a girl and a girl in love
Verses a guy and girl
Do we have to judge how they made their soul connections
What their heats fell in love with
No, we dont have to judge them
Its their life, their soul, their love
So we shouldnt judge each other
Let people find their true love with whoever it may be.

My question is, will America ever see
That equality should just happened because its meant to be?
Will America ever know people who suffer
Because of what they arent allowed to show?
It doesnt affect you in anyway
Let people love who they want
And live their own way.
As people seem to say, you only live once
Well why not let them live with the one they love.
The one they want to have those memories with.
Discrimination, hate crimes, threats
These are what those people get
For being with the person they love.
Just think about it America,
What happens if you cant be with the Read more »

Anger rushes over me and instead of fighting or blurting out dirty words I walk away, but the bully came back and bullied me more. I was more angry than I ever was but Still did not fight or say dirty words. I kept my cool and said," stop it." The bully looked even angrier than ever. I turned pale. I froze. I was nervous. Everyone was a bystander and that made me feel -Alone. That word rushed through my head and stopped. Then I noticed. I did not feel so scared and with great power I said , "Yeah stop it!". The bully ran away with a mad face, but I was happy. The end

In the same way I am corrected

When I do not care after my mistakes

Click fix

There is no room for mistaking in this sweep up after world

I like the smudges and the fingerprints

Soft voices

Snake eyes

Trying hard to be a person

Bravest person I ever met

I need synonyms for I, I realize

The psyche looses itself

Everyone else is an i

Or a u

Or an it

No originality I image

On tired nights that is the weight of the world

I liked his eyes, they were full of fire

Like the way hope refuses to back down

Dickinson is calling

I say what comes to mind

But not your name

Who am I writing about anyway?

My want to speak another tongue overwhelms me so I talk here

And become animated in rubber face

Insanity is the only cure if you’d like to become an artist

Would you?

There was something in the pastels that I think they call drive

Oh, this is fatigue

And it’s bringing on commas

Soon there will be apostrophes

I won’t surface

Until I’m all the way under

You never came up again

I think it is my fault

I think ridiculous thoughts

I think you are a star

I think we are all stars

They are the death of generations

On display

Because where else can we put them?

And at night

Who is I?

This person is not acquainted with such a skinny figure

Maybe I should change my consciousness

And it will come to me

My song Read more »

Think of the damage I've done:

the roofs torn, the basements flooded,

the cars flipped over in the wind.

I broke a CD

on your kitchen floor, 

dropped a mug, sat down

among the shards and pressed my face

against my knees with your hand on my spine,

rubbing circles, trying to bring me back

while outside the trees shook and shook. 

We have an apartment, 

three rooms and a bath and a cat

who demands our attention as we sleep

curled into each other,

you, dreaming, me, breathing, 

shaking the walls with the force of my breath, you

waiting for a day you don't have to repair.

Waiting for daybreak, for a sunrise

without a storm. 

I don't yet know enough

of this language of adults to say

I'm sorry

and know that you believe me. 

Take cover in the eye of the storm. 

This rain is a baptism. 

It will wash us both clean. 

Thoughts are just as big as the electrons they occupy.
So you are making something very very real just by
Thinking it.
Conjure ideas and make them real.
The question is do you feel
strong enough to create
to make something great
to take an idea
from it's original virtual state
to something bigger than your head
To something that you've said.
Look further ahead.
Make it a revolution that you led.
For in your head
An idea is just an idea
but outside
of your mind
it can be redefined,
unconfined,
it can be designed,
it can be combined,
don't leave it in your head
where it is undefined,
where it can be undermined
by your own thoughts.
Where it can be fought
by your own fear of being extraordinary.
For none are ordinary
their ideas are just too big or scary
for themselves.
So be brave.
Take that brain wave.
Let it unwind.
Let it crash into the world.
Your mind,
unfurled.
That is exactly what can and will
change the world.

Wonderful, intimate crowd Friday, Nov. 16, for YWP Slams and what turned into an open mic. Concerts, dissapation of UVM students for the Thanksgiving break and a few other events, kept folks away but now you can experience what you missed. ... Wonderful poems from Bridget, Lizzy, Luke and Evan. Thank you guys. And thanks to the audience and the family who read our flyer...

NEXT SLAM: Dec. 21 at 7 p.m. Be there or be square. Mark it in your calendars. M&Ms. Frvolity. Seriousness. Rants. Emotion. Meaningless angst. Yarns. All good. Come.

TODAYS LESSON.

Rm. 105

MY learning curve is the 90 degree angle where,

His fist, connects to

Her face.

The curling, and convulsing,

Of a bone sculpted

Anorexic girls stomach.

My long-term recessive memory,

wasn’t built simply,

for your petty

school lessons,

that apply, to the world I might not live to see.

It’s to remember that you can’t trust men,

Because they,

Will betray you,

Chain you to the bed

And, penetrate you

With, self hatred

And, an un-erasable memory.

It’s for, remembering which stores,

Don’t have security,

Cause Stealing,

is the only way

They get to eat. I’m,

Sorry I cant,

Pay attention,

Listen, my

Ears, are abused by,

Cruelty rapped in jerseys of red and blue,

High heeled shoes.

My eyes are losing,

To gravity I’m,

Sure,

Your lecture,

Is fascinating but I,

Stayed awake all night,

Holding my sister tight,

Because bad dreams haunt her and I’m,

Not going to write

For you.

Speak to you. Agree

That my purpose right now

Is, Read more »

You cry, you lie, you scream,

you try to be someone, be someone

they keep telling you to be someone

just be someone

You scream, you try to tell them why

to make someone, make someone

just be yourself and make someone

and they're yelling, telling you

to be someone other than a fragile artist

I'm a fragile artist

we fragile artists make, create, go against all hate, but you don't know

and you tear down, break, destroy,

what you don't know

and you don't know, you don't know

So try sometime to make someone, create someone

instead of trying to break someone

I can't look into your eyes, because then I see your soul, your heart, your mind. And every time I look, I see black darkness. An oozing, destroying black. A liquid black filled with tears and blood and pain.

I can't look into your eyes because then I see your dreams, longings, and hopes. And every time I look, I see a tiny shard of light, every sliver of light piercing the darkness of oozing black liquid filled with tears and black and pain.

and I can't look because I realize that I'm missing out on so much just from that tiny sliver of hope that turns out to change your life but will never change mine.

The best gift you can give me

Is not a room full of promises

You dare not to keep

Nor a drawer full of purchases

That screamed my name

The best gift you can give me

Will never be the adventures you endure

Nor the ones you wish you could

The best gift you can give  me

Is the smile on your face

Speaking of the wisdom you have collected

Over the years of

Promises-

Purchases-

Adventures-

Most of all-The emotions

Crawling through you

In these adventures-

Promises-

Purchases-

So you see- The best gift will never be

To me, from you

Rather-In the form of life

From you, to me

To cherish these moments with you

What: Performance Poetry

When: Friday, November 16 7:00* to 8:30 p.m.

Where: YWP HQ, 12 North St, Burlington

Who: You! Open to all ages

Details, details, details:

$5 donations accepted at the door

*If you want to slam please arrive by 6:45 to sign up

Radio broadcast rules apply on language and content

We will be streaming, again, on YWP Radio.

For more information call 802-324-9638

We had a great turnout last time, lets see if we can get that same kind of energy again! All are welcome to participate or spectate or even JUDGE! Come by!

I’m starving; I need a house and a real family. I live in Colorado with two people that claim to be my aunt and uncle. We have no food, barely any water, and we live in a shack. I need help. My bed is a couple of boards with a burlap sack as blankets and padding. The only food we have is the food we barter for or whatever we find along the side of the road and load it onto the trailer attached to the horse. We have a filter for the ground water but it hasn’t been replaced in 10 years so the water still tastes like mud. When we couldn’t pay the mortgage on the house any more we had to sell it back to the government and move out to Colorado and live in this old leaning shack on the side of the a mountain. I need help.       

pilot precise ZING.

this pen can’t hold my thoughts, it can only jot down my dreams

but you know,

there are leaves in those trees and they,

they hold the future.

they hold the seasons and convince us

that time itself is passing

us by.

and there are reasons for these things in nature.

if it weren’t for the leaves on those trees,

how would i count the days i’ve known you?

the days i’ve bit my nails

down to the skin,

then bit some more until

it hurts because

your shoes keep hitting the pavement

every morning for

two miles

three miles

four miles

moremoremore miles

while your body burns every little calorie in you.

is it about being thin,

or is it only to have control?

‘cause honey,

you can’t control life any more

than you can control the color

of those leaves,

and they won’t wait for anyone.

Gears turn,

blood rushes,

screams.

Oh, the screams are the worst part of it all.

You can try all you want to stop the factory,

but the gears continue to turn,

the past continues to burn,

soon there'll be nothing left that you recognize.

And you can try all you want to try to pix a cog and take it out of the machine,

but the cogs are too far deep under my skin to grab,

too hidden in the bones and blood to find.

Try to scream,

try to scream to any part of me that remains,

but I'm too far gone.

The lenses stare at you,

the motherboard uncaring.

The proccessors will end you,

so leave if you wish to leave with your life.

Cut me all you want,

I bleed the factory,

hit me all you want, the metal of the factory doesn't care,

cry all you want,

the factory can;t feel sympathy for the sad sight of your tears.

Reason all you want,

the factory does not succomb to such wastes of time.

Wake up,

blood on my hands.

The factory's gone,

off to find a new host

or something.

You saved me,

but where are you darling?

I find you, covered in blood,

tears in your clothes.

I try to shake you,

to wake you up,

to congratulate you on saving me,

to thank you.

But you're already gone, Read more »

Alone

I stood at the window, watching the red tail lights disappear. It was to the ambulance where my mom was. It was a head on car crash with some idiot that wasn’t watching where he was going. My dad died when I was 6 he died from cancer. So what am I going to do, I have 2 brothers one 1 year the other 4 years. I’m 13 I can’t take care of two little boys. My mom isn’t going to make it the nurse says. I’ll have to live with some stranger. But I’m not getting split up from my two brothers, I won’t let that happen.

  Read more »