Sentiments After the Slam or Death of an Unknown Poet at CUPSI 2018
CUPSI 2018 was a month ago and another mediocre poem came out of it.
an ass backward love poem to slam
even though I hate you most days
even though you ain’t shit
even when I know I’m not the only one that feels like this
so much I keep standing in this ring
because a beating feels better than the poet I am back
the real poet only appears behind the mic
open up my mouth and spill blood for a number
snaps and a couple stomps
tried to make these words holy and still wound up devil
what good is a score if not to rip out your soul?
I’m tired of writing for you now
fashioning my trauma into a boutfit
to put on for sport and take off after show
because clothes don’t heal nobody’s wounds
on a poem about a nightmare I keep reliving
you should know the PTSD all too well
I’m not even sure I write for me anymore
but can’t give you up somehow
too trapped inside your glamour
want to dull this sword disguised as a mic
it’s making a hole in my chest again
couldn’t stitch it up this time
couldn’t stop the bleeding
the death of another poet
how many more unmarked graves?
how many more eulogies without a name?
how we drag ourselves through trenches for YOU
with no one to greet us after the war except a whiteboard with questionable scores sometimes
is this what it is to be unrequited?
to rain into a storm drain
and have to call a sewer home?
you should know this love still pours over
even with your whiteboards and double edged swords
the death of so many poets in unmarked graves
so why can’t you just love us all