ref: spoken Word

Writing spoken word is hard
Because it’s not just all
Rhyme schemes
It’s like a dress that doesn’t fit right so you rip out the seams.
It’s not all
Phrases that sound like this
Or
End
Like
This.
It’s not flailing arms
And stomping feet
It’s not taking a theme and beating it until
My words have created a mob mentality within the audience

But spoken word is
The simplest and most vulnerable way of expression.
I am stripping my clothes and skin in front of you
Strangers
In ways that I have never done for friends or lovers.
I am letting you in to the darkest parts of my dusty soul
For free but I’m cloaking it all with a theatrical performance
And high spirited words
And enough movement to keep you engaged but not alarmed.

I’m telling you how
I’m a divorce kid
Or
How she died
Or
My trips to the hospital
Or
The first time I laid eyes on you
Or
Or how sometimes when you’re around I think you’re cute but how my religion makes me feel guilty for that.

Have you ever noticed the use of inflection
It’s actually a way of protection,
You see when I start a conversation with you,
My voice sounds like this:
Hey!
And when I start a new line because I’m getting too close to the truth, it sounds the same
Or we try to get you to forget with a rhyming game.

Spoken word is like standing on the ledge
Of the Golden Gate Bridge
Just remove the net that’s meant to catch me
Give me the threat of a free fall
And water so harsh my ribs will break
Spoken word is my feet on the ledge
And while I am baring my soul to you
I’m afraid of baring too much
I’m afraid of falling off the cusp
I’m afraid of losing you
And myself because you see,
A spoken word artist never truly stops.

Even with eyes glazed with drugs or love or hate
Our minds are set on two speeds
Rewind or in the moment.
Rewind to let you know where I come from
In the moment so I can accurately depict what I see, feel, hear, taste,


Your lips taste like sugar cane
And feel like feathers against my skin.
Body heat radiating from our most sacred spots
I can see that you love, within.


But it’s never the future.
I cannot write the future.
My tarot cards don’t work
When I was younger
My sister asked me
“Why don’t you play the game?”
She meant life
I was unconventional and a mess
Whereas adulthood is meant to be orderly and responsible.
Now I find myself there and thinking to my little brother
“Why don’t you play the game?”
But I don’t want him too because living orderly is not living at all.
Life is spontaneity not schedules.

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