Weekend Open Mic Poetry Reading That Has Nothing To Do With Either Tea Parties Or Occupy Wall Street


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17 Responses

  1. Here’s a poem I used to read in my open mic days in Denver:

    To Mary from the First Grade:

    Because running was all, together we ran
    On the laptop at school, at recess and lunch
    Together we ran because running was all
    And we held hands

    The teachers all shouted for us to slow down
    But even five minutes was too long to wait
    Together we ran because running was all
    And we held hands

    After first grade, you moved away
    But I hope you remember that running was all
    I hope you remember we ran together
    And we held handsReport

  2. Boegiboe says:

    When peaches were tart
    and strawberries were red,
    my head and my heart were
    raw, taken from what I saw
    with you, each and all
    of my friends had forsaken me.
    How did I fall if reaching
    to you was all you had to teach me?
    Teach me!
    Preach to me!
    You were all I had, my head
    in my hands,
    I thought we would reach all
    but for you

  3. Across this gushing, unreal world
    All my prized thunk thoughts,
    Lost to circumstance,
    Wait inside a plastic box
    For their own catharsis.Report

  4. Capitalism is
    A single mother
    Putting her child in daycare
    So she can work as a nanny.


    Capitalism is also
    A smallpox vaccine.Report

  5. Kimmi says:

    Atop a hill,
    I stand in rarefied air
    Only a hint of rancid remains…
    bourne on the wind.

    Below, a reeking miasma
    a putrid yellow fog clings
    Pierced by a beam of red light.
    Sunshine tommorrow.Report

  6. Mike Schilling says:

    There came a giant to my door,
    A giant fierce and strong,
    His step was heavy on the floor.
    His arms were ten yards long
    He scowled and frowned
    he shook the ground,
    I trembled through and through,
    At length I looked him in the face,
    And cried ”who cares for you?”

    And then he hit me.Report

  7. North says:

    What is plucked will grow again,
    What is slain lives on,
    What is stolen will remain-
    What is gone is gone.

    … What is sea-born dies on land,
    Soft is trod upon.
    What is given burns the hand-
    What is gone is gone.

    Here is there, and high is low,
    All may be undone.
    What is true, no two men know-
    What is gone is gone.

    Who has choices need not choose,
    We must, who have none.
    We can love but what we lose-
    What is gone is gone.Report