I'm getting tired of not making it to the third round. Did I have a good night? Yes. I slammed a brand new poem...I mean I finished this shit earlier today...and it was the bomb. I performed it beautifully, if I do say so myself. (Everyone else thought so too. I got mad props.) I made inroads with the poet community, and I did make it to round 2, so overall I am pretty satisfied with my night. However that competitive part of me says it's my turn. During round two I flubbed...how I could perform my brand new never been performed piece perfectly and flub on an old stand by that I've had memorized for over a year...I don't know, but I was kicking myself because tonight was my night. And then it wasn't. So I will wallow for about 5 more minutes, then I'm going to bed and when I wake up I am only gonna remember people laughing their asses off and cheering for my poem. I will rock the slam. Next month I'm gonna win. I'm not kidding. I know the points are not the point, the point is the poetry, but that's just it, I want my poetry to be like the perfect wheel kick, insanely powerful and capable of knocking someone on their ass with ease. And I'm close.
The Afro Petting Zoo Is Closed: A Public Service Announcement in 3 Parts
1
Freedom of speech is all cool,
but sometimes my hair be talkin’ shit
Not when she’s twisted or braided down
and wrapped in silk,
but sometimes,
when freshly washed and oiled
smelling like coconut and ocean
all soft and luscious
billowing up and out
wild and free,
she gets an attitude
and starts talking to strangers.
She be like “Psst. Hey. I look soft don’t I?”
She says “ Touch me, I’m like perfumed velvet,
You know you wanna touch me.”
* Now this is important: Don’t listen to her.
2
The following is a dramatization
based on several unfortunately true stories
Saturday night at the club,
She was blond and sparkly
Shellacked into white go-go boots
and a pink spandex mini-dress
that was made to hold
much less of her,
but she didn’t care.
It was her birthday!
She was pink and special
And the tequila was free!
As she tottered out into the street
Loosely supported by two equally drunk friends,
Her eyes fixed on me,
A vision of chocolate goodness,
The tremendous fluff of my ‘fro
So soft, so downy, black cotton candy
Cried out to her
Like a giant puffy siren
Singing her towards
Her own destruction
“Touch me.
I’m just as plush as that rabbit you had in kindergarten,
Pet me.”
It all happened quickly.
She let out a squeal of elation
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEE”
Startling the crowd of cool kids smoking by the door.
Shedding her two friends,
like a beer stained coat,
she came careening towards me
The fat in her dress set into motion
Like two warring sock puppets
Tarped in pink,
A mass of bubble gum jello
jiggling,
JIGGLING
Her two hands
Like the metal grabby claws
In those glass bins filled with toys
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEE”
The Afro Petting Zoo Is Closed: A Public Service Announcement in 3 Parts
1
Freedom of speech is all cool,
but sometimes my hair be talkin’ shit
Not when she’s twisted or braided down
and wrapped in silk,
but sometimes,
when freshly washed and oiled
smelling like coconut and ocean
all soft and luscious
billowing up and out
wild and free,
she gets an attitude
and starts talking to strangers.
She be like “Psst. Hey. I look soft don’t I?”
She says “ Touch me, I’m like perfumed velvet,
You know you wanna touch me.”
* Now this is important: Don’t listen to her.
2
The following is a dramatization
based on several unfortunately true stories
Saturday night at the club,
She was blond and sparkly
Shellacked into white go-go boots
and a pink spandex mini-dress
that was made to hold
much less of her,
but she didn’t care.
It was her birthday!
She was pink and special
And the tequila was free!
As she tottered out into the street
Loosely supported by two equally drunk friends,
Her eyes fixed on me,
A vision of chocolate goodness,
The tremendous fluff of my ‘fro
So soft, so downy, black cotton candy
Cried out to her
Like a giant puffy siren
Singing her towards
Her own destruction
“Touch me.
I’m just as plush as that rabbit you had in kindergarten,
Pet me.”
It all happened quickly.
She let out a squeal of elation
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEE”
Startling the crowd of cool kids smoking by the door.
Shedding her two friends,
like a beer stained coat,
she came careening towards me
The fat in her dress set into motion
Like two warring sock puppets
Tarped in pink,
A mass of bubble gum jello
jiggling,
JIGGLING
Her two hands
Like the metal grabby claws
In those glass bins filled with toys
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEE”
coming closer, closer....
*SLAP*
The slap reverberated through the street,
Smoking ceased
The bouncer eyed us warily,
The only sound,
the throb of diva house spilling out from the club.
A smile was turned upside down.
Pink sparkly lips quavered:
“It’s my birthday,” she whimpered “You didn’t have to do that…”
OH, but I did.
Don’t let this happen to you.
3
It’s big, it’s invisible,
And it surrounds me constantly
I like to called it:
My personal space bubble.
In the words of singer, song writer
India Arie
I am not my hair.
All views expressed by my hair,
Are not necessarily my views
And any invitations issued by my hair
Are subject to interpretation
And possible recrimination
So to avoid potential litigation
Or possible bitch slapping
Treat me like I am the VIP lounge
Complete with velvet ropes
And burly men named Thor
Forming a barrier between you and my hair
If you’re not on the list,
Don’t touch me.
Thank you for your time and attention
*SLAP*
The slap reverberated through the street,
Smoking ceased
The bouncer eyed us warily,
The only sound,
the throb of diva house spilling out from the club.
A smile was turned upside down.
Pink sparkly lips quavered:
“It’s my birthday,” she whimpered “You didn’t have to do that…”
OH, but I did.
Don’t let this happen to you.
3
It’s big, it’s invisible,
And it surrounds me constantly
I like to called it:
My personal space bubble.
In the words of singer, song writer
India Arie
I am not my hair.
All views expressed by my hair,
Are not necessarily my views
And any invitations issued by my hair
Are subject to interpretation
And possible recrimination
So to avoid potential litigation
Or possible bitch slapping
Treat me like I am the VIP lounge
Complete with velvet ropes
And burly men named Thor
Forming a barrier between you and my hair
If you’re not on the list,
Don’t touch me.
Thank you for your time and attention
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