Bend Poetry Slam

It’s been too long since I’ve been the pet outcast of a social group so I became involved with the local Poetry Slam. I’ve always been scared of Slammers; they yell too much, grab their crotches (I guess the rules now prohibit this activity), and just always seemed too gimmicky for my poetic tastes. However, through a work assignment, I was in essence “forced” to join this local community. Thanks to a road trip and a bottle of whisky they now all think I’m highly entertaining–and scary–maybe next time they’ll give me some boxing gloves.

 I have to say it sucks to suck. Not in the literal sense…but I have to say the few Slam scores I’ve gotten so far have been notoriously low. Oh so so notoriously low. I’ve taken this to be a challenge. I’m not used to writing poetry for performance nor do I know much of anything about audience mechanics. This is the beginning of me figuring this whole Slam thing out and I will. I will GOD DAMN IT!

Corporate Blood Loss

The veggie party plate molded slowly in the

bland, refrigerated innards of the office break room,

symbolizing years of cheap paper plate parties

and pepsi in plastic cups.

We wait 358 days for a lap in a snack maze

to a stale soundtrack of

“where’d you buy that new polo, Derek?”

and

“we finally finished our patio Laurie!”

Two days of freedom follow and then

back to the backstabbing antics of the snack maze.

Manager #1’s repressed homosexuality sours his sighs

Manager #2 sours the whole room with his tea-laced breath

Manager #3 moans about his trips to New Zealand and the Caribbean

SOUR SOUR SOUR SOUR!

the yogurt’s past due

the half and half curdles

the ants chain themselves to their shitty PCs for 15-20 years.

I see everyone dragging around moaning,

blood comes out of their noses.

Too much blood loss is bad for your health,

in fact, over the years, it can cause death.

 

Lust

 

 

fingers overlapping fingers 

cheek to cheek

you seem surprised to kiss me

your mouth waits like

a catfish under a hook

and your tongue squirms away

like a worm not adequately baited

but you still put your arm around me

I am too exhausted

and your delirium

prolongs the inevitably upcoming moment

intoxicated by ligneous, tobacco

smells of salts

cheek to forehead

cheek to chin

cheek to abdomen

I don’t mind smothering my larynx

if it means

throat full

pressure on the lipped gates to open

take a hand full of my ass

so I can lean close

to ligneous, tobacco, salts

fervent grasps

tugging geysers

until you cry out to me

you admire my pink and olive breasts

I encourage you

worship my fervent giving

and I lap up yours eagerly

sleep came last night

with a smell of salted spice

on my lips

and I was reluctant  to

wash my face this morning. 

Men Hate Shaved Heads

Ok, this is a slight ode to the evolution of my hair styles over the past years. Not really an ode, but a word to my observations on people’s reactions. Unfortunately, this is the only picture I have right now of this stage, and really I have few pictures to document my evolution. I started off cutting my hair. Due to timidity, first I cut it to my shoulders and then I chopped it down to about 3-4 inches. Then I shaved it. I let it grow a few inches and shaved it again. I thought, “I want some dreadlocks.” But, in the end, I didn’t have the patience, so I shaved it all off again.  However, eventually I distracted myself enough to grow my hair out and start dreading it.  Now, understand that I have really straight hair so this process took a couple of years. By the end of the couple of years, with the help of some cheap beer, I had my boyfriend shave off all the parts that had not locked up by then. I ended up with a kinda sorta topknot surrounded by shaved head. Which I guess is what a topknot is, so why did i say anything extra? Anyways, it didn’t take too long for the shaved  part to grow out. So this time I had my boyfriend shave a design it. We hemmed and hawed for a little while. Everything I wanted  he said was too intricate for his razor. So, I ended up with a chaos rune. The topknot of dreads was the middle of the rune with the chaos arrows growing out of the knot. I wish I had a picture, but at that time I was not into taking pictures. Then I started letting it all grow into dreads. Then I got arrested and cut them all off before I went to court. But that’s another story. Believe you me, the first time I got arrested I did not cut the dreads, rather, I attended my court session with a head covering–as though somehow that was better. But the second time, I just didn’t have the heart, so I chopped ‘em. Now there’s a reason to mention all this (kinda). In all my hirsute meanderings, men hated–I repeat HATED–it when I shaved my head, any part of it. Minus of course, the boyfriend who put the razor to the scalp, but he was very unusual by many different sors of standards. Oh my God! You would not believe how many comments I got at work, from housemates, even dudes in bars. They hated any time I shaved any part of my head. They much preferred the dreadlocks. The girls are a different story. It just goes to show how most men still have traditional ideas about what a woman should look like. Either that or they want long hair to grab, I really don’t know, because I am not a guy.