It is not the poem of the mind
Not even the poem of the heart.
It is the poem of the voices
Of screams, muffled cries & wishes
For the act of finding if your
You always need to find out
& explain the scene that’s set out,
Repeating what was in the script,
Repeating for countless times
Until voice becomes screech
Of nirvana, like some souvenir.
First, learn the speech of the stage.
Face men & women & act
Like a goddamned sage.
Think about your gender or race.
Inject some details of the wars –
Just in case –
These things will suffice.
So no need to make a mess.
So, let’s deconstruct the old base.
Second, act cool
& don’t forget to gasp & scream.
Be the insatiable actor you’ve always
Dreamt of, but were too afraid
To act out. Now slowly, take time,
With mild meditations, scream the words
In the soft ears, scream louder,
& turn the audience deaf – tone deaf,
Poem deaf, lyric deaf, notion deaf.
Find some cool clichéd line
That sounds sexy to
The delicatest ears of the mind.
Repeat, repeat, repeat
Like some transcendental mantra.
Use as many F-words as possible
Because an invisible audience
Waits for that.
Waits for the F-bomb to drop
Until emotions explode into rage.
Finally, always remember,
As a slam poet, you’re some
Kind of an artist. Maybe the lowliest one,
But doesn’t matter. You’ve got to scream.
So scream in the darkness.
Be the metaphysician of the dark,
Twanging a tuning fork in frenzy.
Twang, twang, twang,
Like some goddamned goddesses
Twang with a full string righteousness.
Now, you’re done, well congrats!
You’re a slam poet.
Only Beelzebub knows
What that means!
By the way,
You’ve got an audience,
Who cannot descend any lower
Nor rise any higher.
So, find the satisfaction.
You’re a man of screams
Or a woman of grooviest moves
& a slam poet to the softest minds.