#slampoetry

[kn1ghtconsumeslemons]

nishca should also be called slampoetry instead of passionfruit . IT WORKS more the passion fruit

sure you get the passion from mishca where he goes 'ukranian boys have 2 thinks rage and passion' along those lines , and then theres fruit. mishca's fruity yes but fruit is just BUM for my boy.

Slam relates to mishca's rage and passion hense the slam it genuinley works and we have poetry for noels poems and being a poet said by mishca its just rahh it needs to be more common

[mockpoet]

The Ghost in the Feed

Another scroll, another sunrise bled through a blue-light bruise across my head. The algorithm wakes before I do, a curated echo, always true to some version of myself I built. A mosaic of moments, carefully spilt across a feed that never sleeps, where vulnerability only keeps if it’s pretty. If it trends. If it performs. If it fits the digital storms of likes and shares, the phantom touch of strangers caring, but not too much. I click. I tap. I nod along. Another perfect life, another perfect song playing in the background of a story where everyone else has found their glory. And here I am, behind the glass, a silent witness to the moments that pass, feeling every filter on my skin, this hollow buzz where real life should begin. Do you know this feeling? This constant hum? This curated silence, forever numb to the actual ache, the truth unsaid, the ghost in the feed, barely fed? We caption our pain, make it aesthetic. We crop out the panic, the truly pathetic mornings we spend just trying to breathe. We braid our anxieties into a wreath of witty remarks and self-deprecating memes. Lost in the glow of our digital dreams, we search for connection in a network of lies, or half-truths, reflected in pixelated eyes. Show me the cracked screen. The raw, unfiltered tear. Tell me the story of your most genuine fear. Break the firewall. Let the static spill. I want to feel the tremor. The real, tangible chill. Beyond the reach of Wi-Fi, the infinite scroll, I am begging for a body, a soul. A voice that isn't echoed, edited, or cropped. Before this ghost in the feed becomes all that's left of me.

[theglycoprotein]

I know I don't post much on Tumblr anymore, but that doesn't mean that my poems aren't being written and performed everywhere and anywhere. On Friday night I competed in a poetry slam in Edinburgh, my home city - the competition was fierce, the writing and performances were top notch and it really could have been anyone's to win... and I only went and won!

This means I'll be competing against 11 other poets from all across Scotland in the grand slam final as part of the Edinburgh International Book Festival at the end of August. I honestly cannot wait!

[theresmusicinyourface]

WHY DO U SEARCH FOR LOVE AND KNOCK ON EVERY DOOR YOU SEE? ITS RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU, YOU IDIOT.

my mother cried because i was curled up in bed. it was, as if, she could feel my heart's weight but all it did was anchor her by my side. my brother (6) lay in bed with me when i was sick. he said "i don't care if i get sick i just want to be with you and i just want you to stop feeling sad."

there was this girl who smiled at me and called my name every time it rained. it's like she knew the downpour made my bones ache a little less.

she held onto me, not on anyone in the crowd surrounding her. her frenzied hands interlocked with mine as i pulled her in. "stop crying. it makes me sad" i begged.

my friend gifted me a book. i found her kisses stashed inside the pages.

and yes, i haven't had much encounters with love, because people are afraid to show how much they care, but if this is all i get? i'll die a happy death.

[plants-in-my-soul]

I'm falling in Love with the same Girl again and I realize, maybe I don't ever stopped to love her.

[tmdoxydoslampereur]

Sur les ondes de la radio #JAMBO_FM à bukavu. La question était : " TM DOXYDO qu'est qui t'inspire et pourquoi tu bosses souvent (à 95%) avec les filles (slameuse) ??? Réponse : je m'inspire à cette parole " la femme est un être faible " vraiment cette parole ne m'arrange pas et je condamne sévèrement les fausses accusations de ce monde inconscient. Pourquoi 95% de tes morceaux (seulement les slameuses) ? Pour prendre en témoin ce monde inconscient et lui prouver combien elles sont capables faire autrement. Elles sont l'image du potentiel. #FemmeForce #F2 #lumiere #beauté #art #humain #slampoetry #MrHumilité #tmdoxydo_Slamaestro https://www.instagram.com/p/CrTlyF_LjWG/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[chrisbernstorf]

🙌 Ya'll are so kind! My blue variants of the new Guest Book: The Mixtape got claimed up after just 4 hours of being out! Fire Truck Records still has some of the red variants. Each one comes with instructions for making these two original cocktails I designed for the release, one alcoholic and one zero proof! Just head to the link below, buy any digital release from the Fire Truck Records bandcamp, and get one of these for free as a gift in the mail! 🙌

.

These are preorder, so they should ship in about a month!

.

🍸 Cheers! 🍸

.

Firetruckrecords.bandcamp.com

.

📸 Amanda Bernstorf

.

SDG

[rainy-day-writer]

I think I've been depressed, lately.

The days go by

Monotonously - I get lost

In the noise of the TV,

And when I find my way back

I can't discern how much time has passed.

My children need me,

My body needs sleep.

My head won't clear itself enough

To remember to eat.

I need rest, I need time, I need space for myself.

I'm burnt out, unimpressed, cynical, I need help.

The smell in the air brings back memories but not – of an event,

or a trauma, just a feeling and the feeling isn't pleasant

The days all blur together like a color palette- mixing

Into ugly shades of brown and grey

and streaked

With tangible, identifiable colors.

but as soon as I reach out for one it seems to get brushed away

Into the muddy mess on a paintbrush with no canvas

My life is headed nowhere as society collapses

I try to keep a smile on my face and pretend

For my children

For my spouse

For the future generation

That I have hope but I'm so afraid

Because guns matter more than children.

I never imagined that I might worry,

and consider keeping my children

home from school so they’re not the next

victims

Of a school massacre

Because a young adult who has less control over his actions

and emotions

Than my four year old

Has access to a weapon that will kill a hundred in seconds.

And I'm Afraid because two men kissing each other

is viewed as more dangerous

Than the white men in uniform

Who can kill you legally,  

As long as the color of your skin

is within a certain range

but, it's not a racial thing anyway,

If he wasn't ready to die he shouldn't have committed a crime.

But while we're on that topic,

what about the missing women?

Millions of indigenous women

but the media's gone silent

because no one really cares unless

you're Gabby Petito and have a billion

Instagram followers clinging

To your every move

Because women are a commodity

and it's worse if you're not white,

and that's another thing,

about those people who claim to be PRO LIFE

The rich white elite will ALWAYS

have access to

discreet medical procedures,

If you know what I mean

And the rest will do what they've done since the dawn of time,

In back alley slaughterhouses - not

The slaughter of fetuses

but of the desperate people looking for a last resort.

So in banning abortion you're just condemning

poor people to die.

But that doesn't matter because 58% of people

below the poverty line don't fit your blond-haired blue-eyed ideal,

the way the unborn fetuses do because they're

not real

and it's never been about

Saving anyone.

I would pray for our future but God is dead,

Humanity killed her with corporate greed and instead

We just trudge through a society bent

on controlling and killing the masses

And steel ourselves for another day in hell.