slam poetry

Slam poetry: that magical mix of rhythm and rhyme.

Anxiety
Anxiety is like the monster living under your bed. Creeping up before you making you scream and heavily breathe. Anxiety, like the bully at school, except unlike the bully at school you can't run home. Because this bully resides in your bones.
By Js10308 years ago in Poets
Broken
She goes out just before the dawn, The ground still damp with morning dew. To breath in the calm wet air, That smells of rain and soft earth.
By Rauce The-sauce8 years ago in Poets
Orange Monster
They say that nothing rhymes with orange, well nothing rhymes with monster either, Thinkin now it’s got a voice and that of a deceiver,
By B T8 years ago in Poets
Everyone’s 2016 Sucked
I leave Baker’s, a week and a half into the new year, Sunday night; after a double at the theater. I'm on my way down Leavenworth, king-size doobie for a king-size shift, I have purchased a bottle of wine for my sorrows and some vegan ‘thingies’ for my ex-girlfriend/roommate, and now there's a cyclist on the road, and I'm going to just swoop around you and— Oh shit.
By Joke Marfsky8 years ago in Poets
Who Decided?
Who Decided that dandelions were weeds? Why can't they be flowers? Why can't they be free? Who Decided that fathers should work?
By Kylah Rayne de' Medici McAden8 years ago in Poets
The Old Man and the Zoo
We're goin' to the zoo, zoo, zoo How about you, you, you? You can come too, too, too We're goin' to the zoo, zoo, zoo. He hummed a tune, that's forever stuck.
By Trey Stevens8 years ago in Poets
On A Roll
ok im really starting to feel the wheel rotating faster than a wedding meal or an opiate addict finding their next pill
By Austin Howell8 years ago in Poets
Triggered
When did we stop paying attention to the character of someones heart, and instead place more value on the words they choose…
By Roleby Colvin8 years ago in Poets
Walking on Egg Shells
I walked on eggshells to be your friend. You are insecure and overly emotional. You do not embrace my words of wisdom. You insist I am wrong,
By Amanda Zylstra8 years ago in Poets
Living in Your Head
We will now return to your regularly scheduled programming. Turn all devices to mute before entering the theater. Exit using the designated areas to your right.
By Amanda Zylstra8 years ago in Poets
The Games We Play
When you first called me baby, my stomach was punctured by Jacks. Pain and bruises fluttered on my skin as thumbprint butterflies.
By Zoey Sparks8 years ago in Poets
Robbed
"Smile!" "Don't look so mad all the time!" "You're too pretty to be frowning like that." This is what you say to me As I walk past a group of you
By Just Shade8 years ago in Poets