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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.

Slam Madness: Days 2 and 3

Pics from Slam Madness! Photo creds to Chucktown poet Fresh Prince of Poetry!

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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.

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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!

 

 

Slam Madness: Day 1

1378091335Class 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.

“Happily Ferris After”

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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.

M.A.D. Studios Feature

Snapshot 7 (1-3-2014 5-53 PM)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.

Enjoy!

 

“Fork,” by Derek Berry

A performance at the King Dusko open mic about speech therapy and the importance of having a voice. Written a lot of new poems, fortunately, that will soon flow forth on the mic. Check them out as well as my forthcoming chapbook entitled Skinny Dipping with Strangers.

Leave thoughts below or on Youtube video.

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When Winter Comes to the South

When winter comes to the Southkatie-bundled-up

and the winds bristle your neck hair

as the cold of 50 degrees creeps up,

snatching you into misery with an icy grip,

when the sea becomes slightly uncomfortable,

but still swimmable.

When we conjure imagined icesicles

and every day bound to the window

to search for even a flake of snow

that might make our environ uninhabitable

our roads non-negotiable

and our homes warm bunkers against the coming blizzard.

Thursday, at 11am

On the morn of another Thirsty Thursday, students roll out of bed early—on average, ten minutes before class—to traipse across the Novembered campus en route to the nearest Starbucks. The wind pushes through the streets like a gaggle of British tourists, slapping students’ faces, rippling every Fraternity flag, and snatching piles of leaves into cyclical whirlwinds. The perfume of reefer, estrogen, and dead fish wafted against the historical buildings, which when campus tour guides spoke of them used almost visible quotation marks—”Historical Buildings.” At 11, the students still stand in a winding line out the door of Starbuck’s and down Calhoun, as girls file out the other end clutching Gingerbread Lattes, Caramel Brulee Lattes, Peppermint Mocha Lattes, Pumpkin Spice lattes, and occasionally an iced coffee.

Somewhere on the corner of campus, a man grills hotdogs. Somewhere beyond him, a hung-over professor packs his notes into a leather attaché case and sprints through the wind-scarred streets to class on the third floor of Maybank—where his students are absent, mired in a stuffy Starbuck’s across the road.

Poetry Book, Future Feature Readings, and Poetic Excitment

I have neglected this blog for a long time, because I’ve been fairly busy with school, but I want to re-establish my online presence here and now. I am breathing, poet-ing, and living life all the time. In the course of these events, I have a few tidbits of incredibly explosive news.

Firstly, I have decided to self-publish a chapbook of poetry, which will be entitled Skinny Dipping with Strangers, named after the featured poem of the same name. Hypothetically, this poem will be released in early January or as early as late December! I will be working on it even harder once I finish final exams and begin my winter break!

Secondly, I will be performing at a number of shows in the upcoming months, including the open mics I already frequent. The soonest will come this Wednesday on November 20th at the 827. I will be performing a 25 minute feature, after which will follow an open mic and poetry slam! For all the information, check out the event here: http://www.the827.com/#!open-mic-night/cdoa

Or you can join the Facebook event here: https://www.facebook.com/events/556583157768045/

If you cannot make this performance, that will be perfectly fine. There will possibly be another Charleston-centric event I shall update you about on a later date.

Likewise, if you’re not in the Charleston area and clambering to experience Derek Berry’s poetic gymnastics, I have three great options for you. Firstly, I will be working in the coming weeks to produce a few low-budget videos of my performances, and maybe even some music-video-type projects for poems! Secondly, I am going to work on getting a professional recording of the poems that will appear in the book (and some other poems too) which I will be giving away for free to those that purchase the book.

Finally, I have a very exciting announcement. I will be featuring in the city where my spoken word started off– Augusta, GA! On January 2nd, 2014, I will perform a show at M.A.D. Studios, hosted by Catherine Zickgraf. I will also post again about this in the future. You can come out and see me play home field.

In other words, get psyched for the possibilities for the future. There have been other poetic concerns clouding my mind, but I don’t want to share them until they become officiated. Keep in touch, and I will keep everyone updated.

 

Why You Should Avoid Courting a Sewing Needle

Try not to be upsetimages (24)

when your heart balloon pops.

 

It doesn’t matter how beautiful

you think the eye of a needle

or how well he threads his words

across your thighs

or stitches his sentences

with Madame Defarge’s deadly grace.

 

Don’t expect fragile care

falling in love with a prick.

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