Poetry Slam: 3 Poems

They Told Me Write a Poem

They told me write a poem

They said it was easy 

I told them, what even is a poem?

But a collection of words

With some sort of rhythm, or a meter, or a pattern, or a theme

I told them life is a poem

Why don’t I just write my life?

It has a rhythm, a meter, a pattern, a theme

But it’s not easy

They said it was easy

They told me write a poem

They said it was easy

They told me write a poem

They said just write about the world

I told them, the world’s a mess

Countries are fighting

Governments are crashing

Natural disasters striking everywhere

You want my poem to be a mess?

They told me write a poem

They said it was easy

They told me write a poem

They said just look outside

I told them that when I look outside

All I see is tragedy

A world where you can’t marry who you love

Because of gender

A world where anyone can buy a gun

While kids are being shot

I told them I see injustice

You try to write injustice

They told me write a poem

They said it was easy

They told me write a poem

They said write what you know

I told them I don’t know much

Why does the earth orbit the sun?

Is there really a god?

What does racism stem from?

Why does my brain develop questions instead of answers?

They told me write a poem

They said it was easy

 

They told me write a poem

I told them tell that to the children starving in Africa

And the Middle East and India and all over the world

Tell that to the children who don’t even have food to eat

Let alone an education

They told me write a poem

They said it was easy

 

I told them you’re right, words are easy

Actions are hard

Especially in this messy, tragic world of ours

They told me write a poem

I told them I just did

Graduated Now

I’m standing here, In the middle of this town.
Draped in a long, black, stupid gown.
Stupid hat on my head.
Stupid words in red.
Telling me that I’m graduated now.

Now what can I see?
Who can I be?
I could go on to grad school,
Get my PhD.
Just loan some $20,403
Dollars out to me,

So I can pay for another four years,
Eight semesters,
Twenty four classes,
And another little paper,
Telling me that I’m graduated now.

So again I can stand and think to myself,
Is this for my well-being?
Is this for my health?

Can I get more money?
Can I get more jobs?
Can I pay this $500,063 dollars off?

You’d think I’d have a clue,
Of what I’m supposed to do.

After four years of college,
I thought so too.

But I’m on my own now,
All by myself.
No head-start.
No aid, no help.

So was college a good choice for me.
A good choice for me and my degree,
In Biology, Ecology, Technology, Psychology.
It doesn’t matter, does it?
We’re all still set free.
Let out to create our own destiny.

Untitled (Sorry about the highlighting. Google docs issues aka technology is dumb)

Who can deliver us

Up out of this weary world

Who can save me

From this tired and cold dark sunrise,

This shot-through bleeding sunset,

That threatens everything I see?

 

Who can answer us

This question burning in my mind

Who can tell me

Where justice has gone with all these lies

And why we’re all afraid of what

We can be

 

Will it always remain the same?

Will it always hurt this way?

Can the world keep going,

Keep spinning, turning, rolling

And drowning out my voice?

 

Who can deliver us

Is it your god or mine, or his, or hers, or theirs

Or is it time to figure it out ourselves?

To let go of our excuses, to bear it on our own shoulders?

Who can save me

From this hostile, unwelcome world

This looming crowd of angry faces

That surrounds me?

 

Can it always remain the same?

Can it always hurt this way?

Will the world keep going,

Keep spinning, turning, rolling,

Even when I’m gone?