#interview with the vampire#iwtv#the vampire armand#assad zaman
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Welp, y'all done done it again! Tonight's @busboysandpoets #CommunityPoem was once again part psychological psalm, part philosophical balm, and part rousing ratchet "OHM"! Keep coming through our Tuesday open mics at Busboys 14th & V where we put the "LIT" in literature! (at Busboys and Poets)
As promised, YOUR #CommunityPoem from @busboysandpoets 14th & V open mic, Tuesday, September 12, 2017! (at Busboys and Poets)
As promised, tonight's @busboysandpoets #communitypoem ! It was righteous and raunchy, esoteric and earthly, self-assured and searching, and "feminist as FUCK!" (at Busboys and Poets)
I'll be hosting tonight at @busboysandpoets 14th & V open mic, 9-11pm. One of my favorite traditions there is the Community Poem, also known as the Exquisite Corpse. I'll start a few sheets of paper with lines I heard or thoughts I had early in the night, then send the sheets around the room for the audience to add on to. It tends to become a mellifluous mixture of esoteric insight and ratchet-assed Migos quotes. At night's end, I read it from the stage and try to capture it in all of its abstract, eloquent, at times ignorant essence. I always promise to post it on my Instagram page, but I usually forget. I have, however, kept most of those from this year, so it's not too late for me to remedy mine error. Here's the one from two weeks ago. #communitypoem (at Busboys and Poets)
I love compiling the #CommunityPoem (aka "The Exquisite Corpse") when I host at @busboysandpoets 14th & V! We pass it through the audience and it invariably becomes a mash-up of iambic pentameter and trap music, classic and crass. What happens to a dab deferred? Lol shout out to my ratchet laureates. Here's last night's. #busboysandpoets (at Busboys and Poets)
At T.O Spirit Circle our local host (Jermaine) facilitated a community poem with the prompt “I will deepen my spiritual practice as...”. Here is the marvellous poetic affirmation from our T.O Spirit Circle community!
Thanks to all of those who co-wrote, may our spiritual practice deepen our connections.
Silence.
The Silence is Loud,
Nothing,
Quiet, but not peace,
I need to hear you,
But you say nothing,
Please say something to me,
But you said nothing,
"So I started walking away."
And now I hear something,
But I ignored it, you said something.. I hear you but your not speaking to me,
Peace, but it's not quiet.
Everything,
Everything is louder now that your gone.
- ThreeAM
moothephotographer
Community Poem | Late Night Thoughts |
It's almost 3am on a Saturday night. When I have no one else to take interest to or nothing else to do, my mind seems to wander back to you. Depressed and stressed feeling helplessness overshadow my mind at this time, if I could do anything but hit rewind it would be to succeed and escape this prison of my mind. Why must all poets be so sad? Why must we be in and internal slumber of past emotions. I for one would rather write about a good cup of tea and a decent movie that reminds me of nothing and no one. But then I'd be lying cus it's almost 3 am on a Saturday night. Slumber is the least of my worries and tea will do nothing but make me hotter. And no one entered my mind when I wondered who could do it better than you. Sweet tea and sweaty sex we all slumber the same. But at after the bodies interact like the stars and the moon. What is truly left there but yourself? And why am I by myself I don't sleep often. I would rather boil water than be left empty. I've come to the conclusion that no matter how many different things go on in my life and no matter how many different people I meet. I'll always come back to you. Nostalgic memories are similar to heroin. I feel so empty but my brain is so quiet for first time. Laying on this pillow puts my body at ease and separation from the outside world. Can't believe that this is the first time my brain is quiet. Life is but a dream, and when one sleeps and dies to self, does he then truly wake. Doesn't matter because my escape into dreams lie my deepest fantasies, where evils of reality can't reach me. Sometimes silence speak the loudest...when I dig deep down into your feelings to feel onto your emotions to go through the motions that had the 3rd album feeling like nothing was the same but were dealing with the lames just chillin within the lanes but I'm not saying anything because you're as sweet as Candy canes. Candy Canes! Or better yet Sugar canes. They can be used to sweeten my tea as I get rid of the bitter after taste of mistakes. At night I wonder do you think about me. Because I think about you. It sucks being single and not do the things everyone else do. I sit and wonder is he going to text me? Is he going to call me? Or should I text him...? I like him but do he like me? I don't know. I guess I'll go to bed and think about the times we shared. I am up wondering. I figure I mean I assume that I have finally came to the end of all ends and reasons why this and that happened. The dark encompasses my thoughts my dreams become reality. This is the time where things unfold. Things I should've and should say are said. Images of people I miss appear. There is nothing but my vivid imagination rampaging. There are nothing but plans being made. I am thinking or living because I am at ease when my mind is up and running. I am enjoying the active parts of my mind engaging. The will is strong, but the flesh is weak. No matter how hard I try to stay away, I find my self asking you to help sweeten my tea. And I was once told, the blacker the berry the sweeter the juice. But in my mind at this here tea time, the hotter the herb the greater the boost. And you my friend is rare. Every form of addiction is bad, no matter whether the narcotic be alcoholic. I'm a sex-oholic. It's 3 am and I wish you were on it. Ridding like a pony. I hate being poet because it's so lonely. You always think I'm sad and wanna hold me. But I just wanna pound it. Over and over again. I just want a fixing. To quench this addiction. At 3 am. Screw everything else. All I want is a fixing. But that fixing only applies to the surface, because when you leave again, I know I'll feel worthless. Loneliness bites deeper than the flesh and the poison, like a virus, sometimes lays dormant in rest. My heart tries to release unwanted feelings, but my mind has already let them go. They can't seem to communicate which leaves me to heal the wounds on my own, not knowing whether I should follow my heart or my mind. if only I could have a peace of mind, may the tension in my sub occipitals decrease and these nightmares cease to amaze me, peace to piece this puzzle of a jigsaw massacre master piece, because the sin that I saw is no longer my master, security breech, because now it is 3am on a Sunday morning.
- as found on instagram: @kaioriaiko @lovejonesxoxo @shocted @thesamuelomare @amabahamas @_blackgeezus @sharkbite23 @malik_shabazzz @whothefcukisbdp troptastic @_essvntric @realspiffy @kdmx_ @highclasslowlifesociety @its_necessary_ @archaicsoul7 @bee_lareina
