dangling from his shoulder as he
stretches onto his side in the Cistern’s shadow mosaic,
his crisp blazer folded beneath his white crown.
When I approach to ask
if he might sign a petition for everyone
to start loving one another, he lowers his book and
wordlessly draws a pen from his breast pocket, and leans
forward to grab the clipboard.
As the Tab of Yet Another Click-Bait Article Concerning “What Every 20-Year-Old-And-Five-Months Should Achieve Before Turning 20-And-Six Months” Loads Slowly on The Browser
After meticulously reading
an online review of Taco Bell’s “secret menu,”
which includes potato-stuffed burritos named after superheroes,
without brand loyalty to either DC or Marvel,
I pushed back my chair and questioned
my predisposition to tell people that I am awfully busy
in order to avoid events and affairs unpleasant or boring,
considering how I had just whittled my lifeline
for the sake of taste bud analysis for the critically-acclaimed Queserito.
Perhaps journalism’s dead, but keeps excavating the crucial mysteries of our time,
such as the quality of Frankenstein dishes at a fast-food-belch-haven. Dead in the same way
Bruce Willis had been dead throughout the entire movie, but he kept
digging at the paranormal crux of his own demise. Maybe everybody’s a journalist these days,
even I worked in journalism for awhile, despite my linguistic
idiosyncrasies and dismissal of grammatical authority.
In other words, perhaps yoga pants do not accentuate each person’s
ass in a flattering light, as yoga pants market themselves to do,
though who decides who does or does not wear yoga pants?
“Yoga pants” might be a good term for successive breathing, quick and deep, quick and deep.
Not counting persons who actually practice yoga, (evidently the minority
of yoga-pants-wearers), no one dictates that sort of non-dress-code.
Just like how the Internet’s become a Wild West of bullshit-masquerading-as-truth
or Taco-Bell-reviews-feigning-to-be-news. Because for every blurb
intricately spoiling every single damn hit tv show on television
exists a well-argued essay in pristine prose
about the degradation of American culture
posted on some obscure blog that nobody’s gonna fuckin’ read.
Pics from Slam Madness! Photo creds to Chucktown poet Fresh Prince of Poetry!
On Saturday morning, we helped with a youth workshop. One of the highlights of the weekend, during which the poets helped young people express themselves.
Unfortunately, I lost after the first round and could not go on to the final round, but I think I made a good impression. But hey, check out this video of “Fork”!
All in all, this weekend became incredibly inspiring. Once Sunday rolled around, we decided to stay because we left the slam absolutely stunned. So many amazing poets, so many breathtaking poets. In our hearts, we are all 30′s– we are worth the three minutes of your time. And congrats to Moody Black for winning the entire slam and for Ed Mabrey for scoring second place! Check out some of the competitors below!
Class ends, and we pack our bags with clothes, books, and poetry. After a panini pit stop, on the road by 4 pm, we rocked out to Mos Def, Childish Gambino, Johnathan Brown Andrea Gibson, Buddy Wakefield, Listener, and Matt Foley– some of the best poets for inspiration as we approached Greenville. In this town, incredibly progressive and bustling with energy, we would be competing in Slam Madness, an annual poetry slam run by Sapient Soul and John C. Weaver. Some of the best poets in the nation will be coming out to bout for a $1500 grand prize, complete with two preliminary and one championship round.
Once we arrived in the city, an hour or so late, we plunged headlong into a poetic evening in a small Greenville restaurant called Jamaica Mi Irie, a bistro serving delicious Jamacian cuisine, at which Madness poets and locals engaged in a free style poetry slam. Each competitor picked random topics from a box, then created rhymes, rhythms, and inspirational messages on the spot. After three furious rounds of good-natured competition, Ed Mabrey brought home the prize. He too will be competing in the slam. For perspective, he’s won the Individual World Poetry Slam. Talk about some serious competition.
So let’s represent Chucktown, show these Charleston poets that can hold their own on the big stage.
Keep updated on the slam performances tomorrow and Sunday, including videos, photos, quotes, interviews, and basic HYPE. In the meantime, get out to downtown Greeneville to witness this spectacular slam, check out some videos of Slam Madness competitors. Sorry for not including everyone, but that would be a lot of videos.
Panera Bread gives no days off,
no fake sick days of water-tower fame,
no Michigan Avenue Beatles musical
where the world joins in for the sake of spontaneity.
Turkey and Swiss smell less romantic
than sprinting home with five minutes to spare,
or saving our friends from abject misery.
Just coughing up nostalgia,
I recall the vibration of
a leather steering wheel.
Should have driven somewhere new,
when we still had time, still had mileage.
A documentation of the night of the book release of “Skinny Dipping with Strangers.” Missed the show, want to watch it again, or were on the other side of the world? No worries, got you covered.
Skinny Dipping With Strangers:
Triathlon for Beached Whales:
Spirit of the Bear:
Charleston Hype Launch Party at King Dusko this Saturday!
Met some great poets and reunited with old friends at last night’s show. We took a few photographs recently posted on the Facebook page. I personally left very satisfied with my performance, was glad to showcase a more mature performing style that’s evolved over the past year. Unfortunately, the camera had some glitches, but here’s the bit of video we did manage to retrieve, which shows two great performances of two poems that appear on “Perfect Nights.” And then there’s almost all of “Perfect Nights” as well.
Although I would have loved videos of other poems, this could not be. Perhaps this is a good opportunity to perform these again in the near future.