greatexplorationslam-blog - Tumblr blog

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Spoken word is what makes me happy. Its what inspires my writing the most and what I lean on when Im stuck in writers block. Its my immediate cure. It is what I can rely on to get my message out there and how I can express myself without feeling scared. No matter the poem, when I get on the stage, I know the world is listening. Spoken word is where my love for writing resides.

Summer Finkelsen

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How I Will Love You After Sarah Kay's Love poem #137

I will say I love you With a rolling tongue and clammy palms

I will leave post its in your pockets, Half written letters In between the pages of your books, Finger prints on your window sill I will hansel and Gretel you home

I will never read the books you give me. Though I will dream of the stories they tell.

I will kiss your shoulders up to your cheek Decorating you with my love

There will be more sweat than you are used to. More skin. More of us.

My sweet scent of soft musk on your pillows, My hair tangled into the fabric of your sheets, My essence all over your home

I'll pull the best one man show you've ever seen. You can sit in the audience.

I can't say what I want. But I'm great at excuses.

I will check my freckles to see if they move, And I fall asleep repeating vows I'll someday hear

I will tell you I love you With my heartbeat heavy You will say, I love you too, and I will say nothing But wish to hear that so many times more

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tell me about your ghosts. i will sit in the graveyard until i find the root of your existence; and i will fall in love with every inch of it.

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A poem about how she knows what she deserves and deserving of a true love

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“Dear Voice, it is your job to make sure that my fists never have to solve my problems.” - Rudy Francisco

You can download this poem from the first ever Button Poetry Live here!

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I really hated poetry for most of my life, so it is kind of interesting that I’m now a poet. I still don’t like a lot of poetry. I get bored easily, and I am not interested in reading poems about the woods or whatever. I don’t know what a pasture is. So, I think the way that I have tried to focus my craft is writing poems that feel relevant to me and my life and reflective of that.

Morgan Parker, interviewed by Sydney Gore for Nylon (via bostonpoetryslam)

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Letter to My Loves

To my first mint green, fallen love, The type of love that makes you Velcro - click I was so blinded by the convenience of your yellow love White simplistic, sacrificial touching Thinking that I could stay wrapped in it for years, but those “years” were just months I realized, like everything else, You were temporary

To my false, fantasy, pastel pink love, You were a beauty like no other, an ultra violet symphony Lilac lovers twisted into confusion Confusion of true love or faulty outlets Never really loving, just wanting Wanting something real But, it wasn't

To my black and blue, abusive love, You were overly loving until your anger got too much Your overwhelming indigo affection was safe Unlike your fist, leaving green galaxies on skin Our love was damaged and strained Love was not enough for us Love is not worthy of this

To my current maroon, dragonfruit love You are cherry flames of warmth My new host of lost emotions and new beginnings Golden handholding and lullabies Sweet peas and caressed cheeks Constant rubbing and clashing of tongues Compassion and mindless love Easy love

To my future holographic, amethyst love, Learn from my past, study it Don't make their mistakes, prevent them I sure have

Stay with me till the end Mean it when you say “I love you” Cherish me like a child Love me in depth

Know, that I will be devoted to you Give my all to you

You will face a wrath like no other if you break me, Again

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Mama plays hide and seek with a fifth of vodka.

FROM THE VAULT! Chace Morris - “Cirrhosis” (Rustbelt 2014)

Chace Morris, performing during finals at the 2014 Rustbelt Regional Poetry Slam. Want Button Poetry to come to your city? You can help make it possible!

(via buttonpoetry)

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He doesn’t understand that I am thirteen. He looks at my body and sees curves.

Nia Lewis - “Closed” (Get Lit 2016)

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Chants of the Unfilled

My mattress talked to me last night Whispering poems into the wind Taunting me

Cold sheets, cold hair Windows open Snow falling

Bleakness within my room within my heart

Everything cold, empty, nagging Not leaving, always staying

I wanted someone to stay So I clung to my pillow Pulling at comfort that wasn't there

My mattress began screaming for someone who could fill it I couldn't fill something I was never in I was always somewhere else Trying to fill myself

The walls chimed in with high pitched screeches Long and drawn out Knowing they would have to be heard I want to be heard

The street lamps began to buzz Within the buzzes were chants

Chants of everything that has slipped of everything that will never be of everything that hurts and will never be filled

My loneliness talked to me last night, screamed at me And it will not be silenced