3 New Slams and Drexel Visage Winter Classic Coming in Jan.

on Thursday, December 10, 2009

EXHALE:
-Before the three possible considerations,
Visage has at least 5 poems, that all 5
poets are collaborating on, 5 lines each,
shooting to have them written and recorded
BY January.

-My twitter has just passed Larry Mednte.
Ironic.

-I'm putting in some work to the citypaper
probably going to be overlooked by someone
from another city, but thats philly

-I noticed also, I have a ton of books I haven't
posted from fall of 2008, which there was
quite a lot of development
and need to be posted


SLAMS:

Untitled 1

I am very afraid
I vary, in frays, lights hues and all the while
Cutting cues in shades above passing windowsills,
Blinded by obsession and wordplay
Hoping that these windows will give me
A break
A junkie walking in the twilight, I’m on my way home
With a knife I held up, pause, a young man
Another strand of life in slivers, silver pointer
Poignant, I held him up on my faulty shoulders
For a SEPTA transpass to get past
Life
I stole a young bull in a bear market a rebel
With a claw, swipe, card with a hood on the brink
Of campus like a tag in your neck and with my
Shiny pointy finger to his neck I whispered an answer
You asked why is we Americans, Amiri, because evil said so HAHA!
Evil values I eval u ate, hunger was my first memory
So I center attention staged with a ring leader for
My finger, a silver slice of the American dream
My God looks like a Zionist, and he loves ends
Like- come here Palestine, end.
Like a period, no Pablo, just end of a life, sentence,
Words are worthless lisping, he asked me to let him go
My reply was emotional
My mother aint hold me, so I now have you
Polarizing the concrete you walk on, well I hate the city
And the only way out is to be opposing values
Ironic in iron prisons built of prisms from the sun
And in the same time it took
For me to hit every branch of my family tree on the way down
His hand went to his pocket
He gave me his way out

Untitled 2

I saw her stuck
Struck dealing blows to windpipes
And the only blows ever forgotten
Are dealt in glass
She was learning love after events
Not precursors like the ‘giver’
I was digging trenches in the sun
A clockwork of orange agents gently
Gentrifying, searching displacement for a love
In a giant peach perched near the catcher
In the riot, him, handing out handfuls of pamphlets
And the Unabombers love letters to the earth
Several banned reasons why caged birds sing
While trapped in ideal states
I was caged, noosed under vocal chords
As my 32 ivory pointers turned on me with
A world of words, charging me
Upfront for delayed gratification
In stutters or blanks
I rolled passed the stopping signs
As war and love are both just sentences
That don’t know how to end
I threw some moss to break the mold in return
Penned penicillin ceilings with no ink
-Corperated, we could grow and be moss, and be
Found years later like McVeighs testimony
I caught her eventually
Crossing the street because she didn’t like
What side she was on, chicken
Shy, locked, and shaking spears at the alpha
“bet” he said and I paranoid
Like a verb wondering who’ll get
Used necks embraced thriving anywhere
Coerced like a birds nest
He told me that what I though was day
Was just a night shining

The stress of the world is in my joint(s)
Ventures

Rushing Roulette (With Poetic Assasin) ROUGH DRAFT

Cultural marrow championing its hollow chambers / spinning bones for a self search a hallowed past oft / trying to find a cold skank within the self as a female / or a monster raping the sloth of women, as a male / this settling debris has you standing at a sit in

Assasin
The starter starting up again - no kick back but can't put my feet up- too patient, adrenaline rushing the doctor within me- steel pulse- the band, not the tap tap of my arm, cocked hammer- too chicken to lay an egg, fried thoughts on the sidewalk-jogging my memory to see how this all started

Startled, standing, staring into the shelves of self / searching for fall in shelter / under trouble like roots / the ground is loose leaf defined / as ink is still in a plastic jacket, straying

Assasin
Dog days of slumber / a plumber - cracking into pipe dreams, it might seam that i'm slacking - lacking the right thread with loud panting

Opening a moment for a clothed mind / some whims latch onto forever like skin / a thin layer of patience over a dry run / tumble, fold spines into boxes for next season / lock.

Assasin
Master - there was a time I succumbed into being dick tracy - chapman - fast car coming for me- suicide- under the man hole - dug grave news after calling spade

I’m pour, Seeping speech/ I’m fumbling vocal chords rushing the reply as a power outlet / letting out only a WAIT! To the raid on harpers ferry / before the End live / internal civil warring the end line

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