#slampoems

[sierrzasonfire]

In 2015 my ex boyfriend deleted my tumblr

Made me lose thousands of followers

Why did I give him my password

I have tried to go to the doctor but they can't do an operation to fix my strained and depressed body.

I have been staring at walls for eight years.

I have never had an idea of what he would do

The fucker is facing life in prison

They say he did the same thing to another guy in prison

url irl lol

That's not funny

Neither is my taste in men

I mean I love when guys are funny

But they are evil I need everyone to know that

[ghostlypoesis]

Happy New Year!

An early morning scribble to start off 2024 by me, ghostly.poesis

Feedback/criticism is appreciated!

[amarille-x]

I loved her before I met her. Something inside of me knew her, knew the person she was, and suddenly I woke up and I knew that I needed to talk to her. I think we are familiar souls, I think she is water and I am fire. No matter how chaotic I burn, she’s always there to calm me down, to extinguish the chaos.

[icynderbolt]

Slam Poetry:

Conventions: Slam poetry is a performance based writing style meant to showcase raw emotion from the perspective of a marginalized community. In writing, slam poems are not commonly meant to rhyme. The oral presentation of it creates and relays the melody instead. A slam poem could be read at any pace, however, it must be performed under a time limit (a competition made art form). Common traits of slam poetry performance are: the projection of voice, rhythm, body language, pausing, word play, vocalization/drawing out out of emotion, and elements of music.

Depression

What is this? What is this feeling? Why do I feel so alone? Why do I feel like drowning myself And never swimming up to the shore? Why do I feel so empty inside? Like a hollow tree that is broken inside. Why do I feel like a ship at sea? Forfeiting my life to the waves coming at me. Why do I feel like crying all night? Only to wake up to tears in my eyes. Why do I feel like a small candle light that has been dimmed by Fear, anxiety, loneliness, guilt, and hopelessness of the dark, dark night? Why do I feel like there's something behind me?! Crawling up my spine and trying to hide me. Why do I feel so pulled to the dark? Do I feel protected?! Or do I not? My heart is blank and it cannot feel. I have lost all sense of anything that is real. My hands look small and my eyes seem large. What is happening to me?! What is wrong?! Why does the world look so dull at this time? So gray and so black No colours to shine. All the happiness is drained and the joy is gone. All that is left is my sadness that lives on. I’m withering, shriveling, and drying up inside. My body feels as though it is slowly beginning to die. I am given all this food and there is so much to eat! But I starve myself instead. Yet when I cry I feel so bad So I eat ice cream in bed. I force myself to close my eyes and think of something nice. But all that ever comes to mind are the sick and horrid thoughts from when IT came to life. Why has the sun disappeared?! Or is it just midnight? I can’t tell because I can't sleep at night. I see shadows and I hear whispers whenever I slide into bed. They tell me to do such things I wish they'd never said. My mind is shutting down and I'm falling into an eternal slumber. I am afraid I won't be able to wake up after all has been discovered. Someone has built these castle walls deep within my mind. And they have succeeded at keeping me locked inside. My friends have left me and my family won’t listen, They caused all these thoughts and have forced me to give in. I lost all connections I cut all ties. What more do I need to finally close my eyes?! I’m tired of life and I’m tired of living. What else can I do when there’s nothing I'm given. No ideas No solutions All I have are dark illusions. I have nowhere to go. I have nowhere to stay. My life has been turned away so there’s no way I can remain. I run outside, right into the crowd, Looking for some help as I walk around. I don’t know what I’m thinking and I don’t know what to do, But this voice inside me has got all the clues. It tortures me and it punishes me. IT pleasures itself with my painful and violent screams. “Just give me the hints and stop tormenting me!” I must silence this voice and stop its cruel schemes! But what can I do if it’s IT against me?! I look up at the sky and think of what to do... I climb up a roof, Jump off, “See you soon…” I look back at the things that I went through. And now I'm grateful for what I'm about to do. A loud crash from down below. You wondered what it was, And now you know. My life was a miserable lie And now I have died. I have numbed all my pain, And now my suffering is gone. I have taken away my misery, And now I am gone. What was this feeling that had made me suffer? The one I felt. The one that had made my life tougher. I had asked myself until this day. “What was this horrid pain?!” And then I knew, Once it was gone That it was none other than DEPRESSION.

[poetrybys]

Imperfect perfection…

She may not be perfect…

But I love her imperfections

She makes me feel safe 

Like I am five years old again 

hiding under my blanket

Knowing that it will protect me 

From the monsters hiding around me

She is not perfect

But neither am I

We are two imperfects 

making our hearts combine 

-S

[slampoems101]

Different

I haven’t seen you in months.

I haven’t felt you in months.

I haven’t heard you in months.

It’s different

But I have physically seen you

But I have physically heard you.

But it’s different.

You are different.

That fire you had isn’t even a light anymore

That life you had is darkened and damp with stress and depression

That confidence you had, is gone and has been placed in him. It’s different

You don’t see it. You don’t see the abuse. The toxic. The narcissist ways. You choose not to see it because you are blinding by want and desire but what you want and desire, isn’t anywhere near what you have. It’s different.

I hope you notice before it too late; because of you keep refusing to notice or deal with the difference; your not going to have to worry about losing anyone, because we all will have already lost you in the worst way.

[chrisbernstorf]

I stopped using social media for like 5 or 6 months last year. It was such a gift, and I'm so glad I did. However, it meant that I missed a few things, including the release of this fantastic album on which one of my poems is sampled. I've seen Dave Parker play in about ten million rock-related bands, but, then, suddenly, he showed up at Winter Wind Down Fest in 2019 and did a hip hop set and blew my mind. He was fabulous as always but in a medium I'd never seen him even touch. It was so, so, so incredibly cool, and his performance (and the subsequent release of this record) so deeply encouraged me to be free, explore, and have fun with all God's given us. This album is a blast, and I LOVE jamming it.  Dave is so wildly kind and encouraging and supportive and is an incredible artist.  I'm so, so thankful for him and his friendship, and I'm so honored by his inclusion of a few of my words on "best / everything." I hope you love it, too! Thankful, thankful for it!

SDG

[amarinavale-blog]

"The Madness of Silence" Marina Vale, February 2019 #poetryoftheelephants #thewritersturf #spokenword #spokenwordpoet #spokenwords #spokenwordpoetry #slampoetry #slampoems #poetryslam #poetsporn #poetryinmotion #poetryisnotdead #poeteysociety #poemig #poetsofinstagram #poems #poetrygram #poemsporn #poetrycommunity #poetsofig #poet #globalpoetcult #poetry #poets #writing #writersofinstagram #wordsporn #words #spilledinkpoetry #spilledwords #spokenwordpoet #spokenword #spilledthoughts #unerasedpoetry #herheartpoetry #micropoem #buttonpoetry https://www.instagram.com/p/BvpL-CaFO9k/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=feak04foqpk5

[return-my-name]

grandma ‘s white hair

i never wanted my grandma’s hair to go white it was never supposed to be that way it’s been brown it’s been red it’s been black but it’s never been

white

she says it’s blonde but i don’t believe her my mom says she looks nice my cousin says it’s her best but my grandma was never supposed to have white hair

white is old white is grey white is dying white is a grave my grandma was never supposed to have white hair she says its blonde but  i don’t believe her

[kh15963]

OH FUCK LMAO😭 I'm featuring TONIGHT with Canada-based poetry mic @urbanlegendspc ! Link in bio to RSVP & watch my slam poem 😁 hope to see you there 🏵🏮 °•○●○•° I've been witholding entire continents from escaping out my throat. Archipelagos of affection at the end of phone calls crumbling as they graze against my tongue in muted defeat. Recollection of fragmented grief. Heart strained, not broken Caught in your storm I became the eye And you saw me whole I witnessed your broken And the shattered glass Got caught in my throat. Crumbled into my heart And left dissolving kisses. We lie awakened in a field Of novel landscapes, liminal in their rooted mycelia, expanding into a portrait of our sacred. Our limbs intertwined as branches. Intersmiling warmth into our cores. Differently, this time. In an alternate timeline where the sun could meet the moon without either of them healing from their history of crater-wounds because there were no comets to scar us with widening arteries, blood searching for a heartbeat. Every expectation dying inside my heart. Rewinding their flesh, newborn, still. born. Memories flashing in my cinema-cranium: ["i need to keep you fed." ears carressed. body memory. soft faces hugging at their zeniths. breathing into each other. diaphragms oscillating into one another. vased crimson carnation bent at the neck. ghost of a black cat observing my bathroom mirror-stares. bawling at your hand on my blackhole gut. "my b..." is TV static becoming an ocean of cicadas.] returning to new hollowness, unfilling into a corpse forgiving its stagnance. I've so much left to grieve. Chrysanthemums and carnations can transmute from sympathy and affection into innocence and Virgin Mary's tears. The retrograde of love is grief. #bayareapoetrycommunity #bayareapoets #queerpoetsofcolor #queerpoetofcolor #poetsofinstagram #instapoet #instapoetry #loveislove #rebirth #heart #grief #death #alive #alchemy #slampoet #slampoem #slampoetry #slam #love #instaart #art #artistofcolor #latinx #latinxartists #latinoart #latinoartists #chicanopoet #chicano #surrealism (at Ottawa - Ontario, Canada) https://www.instagram.com/p/CFS_l4SF_17/?igshid=vkjdvkhir4kd

[peonykissses]

And Is It by kdk

And is it okay to crawl into bed, where my tangled limbs, and scarred skin lay waiting? Where, with my eyes closed tight, I told myself I wanted you to care. Where cold, lonely bodies tied themselves in knots over and over again.

And is it fair to make believe and pretend and act the way I should? When really deep inside, I knew it was far from what I felt. Because the fire that bred beneath my skin wasn't lust but shame.

And is it normal for your melancholy hands to wrap around my neck, where my quick bursts of breath became strained and shallow? Before my face was ground against the plush of sheets, darker than the future in sight.

And is it a lie if I go along with it all? If I make it seem as though my vocality is a sign of pleasure rather than immense pain. Though the only speaking up I do is grunts and moans and gasps.

And is it love if the only thing you wanted was my body? For your own escape, your version of bliss and peace. A thing i’d lost along the way.

And is it sweet if you turned down the tv a little but still kept it playing? So my words could blend and fade, even though they never came.

And if I didn’t say no, is it still rape?

[lovelyhamstring]

poetry by: Pete Pettry

being

being born in the wrong time period is different from being born on the wrong plain of existence

an existence where nothing matters

an existence where nothing matters is an existence that truly doesn’t exist

so maybe that’s what i mean

a plain where there’s nothing is the only true peace a soul could have

is it the soul or the mind at bay when i lay awake at night wondering why im here

i don’t want to be no where

not exist in non existence

i just want to exist in a place that i have total self

no one here has total self

no one here is free

to find total self is to not care if that self exists or not

you listen to everyone to find your self

your self isn’t even comprehendible

your true self is dying to get out

quite literally to find that truth is to die in this self

we’re all scared

letting go of this self

letting go of being scared

you aren’t the cloth you wear

you aren’t the fake selves you surround yourself with

find it

[imapupper]

excerpt from my spoken word

This is not a trend, not a millennial movement. Avocado toast isn't gonna delete your carbon footprint. This isn't about your "personal choice", it's generational cultivation of voice. We're brainwashed by the internet. Companies that blame us, and won't admit to it. Our world is dying at the fault of industry, this isn't an issue of you and me

[poetrybys]

I woke up the day after you were gone…

I woke up the day after you were gone

The world felt lighter

Not lighter in a good way;

Lighter of goodness

Lighter of kindness

Lighter of generosity 

Lighter of a smile; 

A smile that could light up a room as soon as it appeared on your face; 

Your unforgettable face that made your smile even more special; 

You were so special

You made any vacation memorable 

Any goal worth continuing towards

Any tradition worth sharing 

I woke up the day after you were gone and the world felt darker

Your laugh was missing 

Your jokes were gone

Your good heart went with you to heaven

Your tips to get through life suddenly became limited and suddenly there was no more saying “I’ll go there tomorrow” I took the time I had you for granted 

I woke up the day after you were gone and my heart was heavy 

With the love I will always have for you 

The memories I have with you like the sleep overs, all night card games and the stories you would tell me on the way to Florida 

The faith you shared filled within me because I knew you are at peace

I woke up the day after you were gone 

The world felt lighter 

But my heart was heavy with love for you. 

You may not be here anymore 

But your legacy continues on forever through the hearts you’ve touched.

I woke up the day after you were gone and the world felt different. Our family felt a quiet emptiness. Longing for you to come back.

I woke up the day after you were gone and looked up at the sky. The world was different. You were gone and the sky was filled with beauty as heaven took you in with open arms. 

-S

[thriftedbones]

a woman’s place

these days

I feel like i am a prisoner in my own skin

i feel as though i am no longer the owner of my vessel

instead, she is owned by Them

The Men who think

that they know everything

there is to know.

They think that

if i do not appreciate their touch

that i am ungrateful and prudish.

that if i exist

that it is their right

to lay a hand across my face

or upon my chest

or against my thighs.

i feel like a prisoner

in my home,

in my car,

in the bathrooms

because society thinks it’s cute

to show Men that they can treat a woman

however he wants,

touch her however he wants,

speak to her however he wants

without consequences. 

my mother never

lets me leave the house without pepper spray

or my boyfriend/father/brother

because They’re everywhere.

and some people even have the guts 

to sit there and tell me

that i deserved it?

that because i was present in the situation

and am the proud owner of breasts and a vagina

that i deserved it?

that because He 

“is a good person”, or

“has a good heart”

that i deserved it?

and worst of all are those who

refuse to even believe that it happened

that she is making it up

lying

doing whatever she can to 

ruin Their lives

because

these days

women are prisoners in their own skin

women are no longer the owners of their own vessel

and the greatest crime a woman could commit

is saying the words

“Me Too.”

- t m g

[slampoems101]

Fears Anyone and everyone can say their fears when it’s a physical thing. “Fear of snakes” “fear of heights” “fear of inclosed spaces” But the hardest and scariest thing out there; is the unknown. The unfinished stories. The never really knowing. The scariest thing is that which you can’t see, you can’t feel, you can’t stop. It’s inevitable. It’s infinite and it will always come. And that’s the scariest part of this unknown is that right before you know- it’s to late. All those stories, never to be told. All those lesson, never to be learned, all of those dreams, never to be achieved. And once you meet that unknown fear that you have feared for as long as you have been able to fear anything- you meet another fear. The fear of the forgotten.