Category Archives: Spoken Word / Slam Poetry

Used words

I felt anger that day
where it still broke through
and your words then ricocheted.
They were all around
through the rest that lived
and everything they’ve said.

There are problems with our language,
ones that sometimes stipulate.
Both standing on
and floating along
to where we often congregate.

Forming words to make a thought
that may lead to something clear
and looking for meaning behind such things
that are known to be severe.

It’s the final touch
that breaks the ice,
but it hides in rhetoric
where those who still look you in the eye
are just doing it to make you sick.

Our intentions have become
the things at stake
among other forms of thought.
Other ways
we say these things
to describe what it is we’ve got.

That description of what’s going on,
one that hints of a certain vanity
and through such words
we justify release
and drowned in ambiguity.

There are functions
to the way we speak
and we analyze what we hear.
We place value in these different things
if they last throughout the years.

There’s describing things
that have happened,
or directing something next.
We might interrogate
to find out more
cause we often get perplexed.

Emoting feelings
and evoking action
to evaluate their reactions,
then persuade someone
to perform a little
and feed off those distractions.

But it’s also how we say
the things we think
while wandering through our days,
smashing into
so many things
only meant to be on display.

When it comes to knowledge
it’s the way you learn
that’s like an antidote,
but even that cant cure the empty pockets
of those who’re living broke.

Because splinters come
from everything
even people you don’t know.
They’re barely felt
until what’s done is done
and they’ve already begun to grow.

What else but words
could do so much
in the mouths of the confident.
They can build things up,
or brake them down,
or make them seem opulent.

So when you’re thinking
just what you might say,
no matter what they’ll bring,
think them through
and choose them right,
because these words can mean anything.


I feel a pressure
when you feel concerned,
like it might be returned
and otherwise learned
that you cant believe me.
Believe these actions
in reaction to you
and how I feel
when you steal those looks
and I hear your smile
over phones and distance,
but I think you
question me
and my chosen friends
and that I might just pretend
to like you this much.
I’m just reaching out
for the way it’s turning out
and I’m just as blind
as you are.
Keeping an eye
on the kind
who know how to smile first
and satisfy their thirsts.
You see,
in many ways
we’ve both been chewed
and with some help
have been renewed
only to see the changes
in ourselves
that range past years
or fears
where the tears
could’ve filled nearly everything.
And we’re sometimes occupied
with being pre-occupied
while time’s magnified
for hidden meanings
that could rectify
our first assumptions.
Where it’s easier
away from trust
and those things we must do
for ourselves
and each other
just to support
that moment of comfort
and all those decisions
that might come with it.

The line

It’s all about the senses
that rely on having fences
around what we think we want.
But it’s that want itself
that’s breaking shelves
that makes us want to flaunt.

And in this time
we try to shine
between what blocks the light,
just to feel bliss
and not just amiss
and always wanting to fight.

It’s because it’s as if
our hands just sift
through the things we need to hold,
like words that slip
right off our lips
that makes us seem so bold.

Bold in the answers
like conversations cancer
when what should help never does
and it’s left to comfort
without the effort
of worrying about a cause.

Because there’s always someone
who’s forcing a fathom
into the mouths of other people,
they take such care
and are constantly aware
of such things as good and evil.

But this is about who cares
and to those who play fair,
who respect that there’s a line.
One to be known
in respect that it’s grown
from mumbled warning signs.

Because it’s on top of towers
that we let things sour
and fall into darker states,
where no one can lean
and nothing is seen
and nothing no longer relates.

To the way we feel
when we’re forced to steal
and pride is what we forfeit,
I say we see the line
and say it’s time
that we all now finally cross it.

Now who knows?

Now I know,
that I know…

That we’re a race of reciprocity
and we act like
it’s for the good.
We act this way
like we cant be seen
doing what we feel we should.

We live off mistakes
while blisters grow
over things that were there before,
like simple starts
that spin away
when there’s nothing to reach for.

Now you know,
that you know…

That I get tired
going through these days
and times that cross me out.
Those pieces of me
that’ve split to the ground
and have caused me now to shout.

Scream about things
that don’t really matter
where you watch like I was there,
this troubled body
with a broken spirit
who’s constantly unaware.

Now you know,
that I know…

I’ve seen you here before
and stealing hearts
like they were nothing to the rest.
Time stopped us there
and took what’s ours,
once torn right from our chests.
It’s like the pain in madness
that hardens a crust
and looks better as it forms.
It longs to stay
and stain our hearts
and hover like a storm.

Now I know,
that you know…

I didn’t mean those things
I said out-loud
and ended what we had,
cause there are tears from this
that just keep falling
and keeps me feeling sad.

But what can be taken
when it’s taken back
and all that’s left are looks?
Looks that shoulder
while looking away,
like I were some evil kind of crook.

Now we know,
that we know…

From here there’s no return.
There’s nothing more when passing by
but the scent of forgotten things.
Those different things
that mix together
and brakes my will to sing,

or just find a way
to clear frustrations
and give way to another chance.
Some focused hope
where we’re both still there
and we both still want to dance.

But it’s just getting even
with everyone else
for the things that’ve kept out feelings,
those reasons that grip
off the tips of our tongues
and cover our true meanings.


It’ll all come down
to what you see,
us in the lap of luxury
where what we want
taunts in flashes
and causes rashes
when our rations
are too big.
In this world
we have feelings built,
just because,
with the pause
of aesthetic appreciation
where observations
cross us
to create a desire
that expires
when we have to
convince ourselves
that we’re not enough
and that we need to act tough
for those rough
times ahead.
Actually listening
to what’s been said
over stations
and relations
as rebellions
are only heard
and the listeners are herded
off into silence
where the pretense
only has to last
for so long.
Just past
our social-ideology
that’s beyond the things
we want to see
that’s asking for more
that we can be,
or even become
what might be to some,
something that might be better.
And from just one person
we just might learn some
to find that area,
like advertising
that smothers the uprising
and mothers the conspiring
and promises the retiring
something to live for.

Talking to myself

I keep talking to myself,
when I’m along and with other people,
I keep holding back when there’s not enough
and past these memories
I find ways to divide myself even further.

The singers started screaming
while their heads
fell into space.
And you’ve always
sat there listening
like you own some special place.
You lash out
from those quiet places
that’re rarely that observed,
like when you opened up
to the ones involved
with words that were deserved.
You try to help,
but you fuck things up
and leave me wishing I were fractioned.
Just a little off centered
where no one remembers
those awkward little actions.

Well, I know you’re naturally being lude
because I feel what you exude
when you analyze your food
like it allows you to be rude
and speak with such fortitude.

But it’s you that’s been diverted,
into yourself you’ve been inverted,
like a soul that’s been converted
where it’s not the way it’s worded
because your words are outright blurted.

So will you be the one to agitate,
or find a way to integrate?
And lean towards what gravitates,
hold doors for those arriving late
and fight for what they confiscate?
Maybe we’re not
the same at all,
in how I care the least I can.
Maybe this shift
was meant to happen
so we could follow other plans.
So should we turn away
from the faces we have
and those hopes that were our own,
just to be a broken record
that never moves forward
to share what it has known.
But we keep hating ourselves
for the way we’re there
and how we think the rest perceive.
Hearing whispers end
and looks begin
and knowing nothing will be retrieved.

Maybe it’s the novelty
of all my simple poetry
that’s still holding you and me,
in these dreams of reality
where there’s nothing left for us to see.

Though we rarely come in contact
for fear of keeping intact
those things that’ve grown abstract
when you judge me based on syntax
and its proper use that I’ve lacked.

Because I spit when you see objects
and all those things you reject
with words so far from context
then blaming it on reflex
and the fact that you’re still obsessed,
with her.

Or, maybe we can just stop
and forgive ourselves and each other
for anything and all the things
that we’re the ones
still carrying around.

I am

I am
a mistake maker to the extreme
and with obscene things
in these thoughts
I abide by these wants
where fucking paper with pens
only lends
its own views to the way things are.
And only to be read by those
known by you
at a time where candlelight flickers
and you realize
that even a voice can break,
but life is what it takes
just to make these mistakes
that pour from the fingers
that we use to touch everything
and with my own shown desires
I split so many of the ideas I have
into so many different things.
I become my own themes of distraction
where reactions are dominant
fractions become elegant
and even the last secrets we keep
will become the facts that set us free
into a world that has no idea
what it wants.