28 November 2007
Poetry Slam Winners 2007!
So it has taken me this long to acknowledge last week's Poetry Slam at Langdon Street Cafe (Wednesday, Nov. 21) because directly after the Slam I flew out to San Diego for Thanksgiving. Anyway, the Slam was awesome, lots of great talent, the Cafe was packed, and, can you believe it, I won first place! Hooray (and finally, I've slammed enough to land a win!). Thanks to Geof Hewitt for acting as Slam Master, one of his many talents. A good time was had by all. Here are my poems I read that night:
The Affair
It's not the pure, gold baby of hate
We relate to, but the wire mother,
The one void of softness in her cage.
It's the metaphysical, terrycloth other
We crave. We dig into each other's flesh
Hungrily, though our lips never meet.
You think it will lift your depressing crash,
I use your body to fill my sexual need.
I'm aware of this, our using, our skin
The hard grab of your hands, first on my feet
Then up to my calves. Here is where desire begins.
It knows nothing of wives, nor can it see
Our crimes. We close our eyes to this, but we know.
It's why we don't kiss. Oh sure,
You kiss my hipbone, you bite it on the way down to where I want you to go
To kiss the dark, wet part of me so pure.
Pure as that gold baby, or the Macaque
Tested and tested for its warm longing.
The same longing that gives you back.
The same longing that keeps you here 'til morning.
Golden Spiral
The toil of its symmetry and complicated simplicity haunts me
the learning of it's so daunting, the form and curvature
of each fraction's metamorphosis into the Divine, that 1.618 and so on
translation of perfection
to say you are Golden is just an expression of mathematics
the Sacred Geometry matches the birth of the seashell, the wave, the unfurling of a fern in the dampening of spring, and any rectangle my eyes desire.
They are all one, the one true form of beauty
the one the Universe handed down to us as she kissed the moon's forehead goodnight,
and turned on the stars, a night-light reminder of who we are, and of who we will still be when the sun awakens.
Let us not forget, we did not invent ourselves
a Universal language, it was already here. No amount of adding or subtracting
will ruin it, no matter how divided we become.
So it has taken me this long to acknowledge last week's Poetry Slam at Langdon Street Cafe (Wednesday, Nov. 21) because directly after the Slam I flew out to San Diego for Thanksgiving. Anyway, the Slam was awesome, lots of great talent, the Cafe was packed, and, can you believe it, I won first place! Hooray (and finally, I've slammed enough to land a win!). Thanks to Geof Hewitt for acting as Slam Master, one of his many talents. A good time was had by all. Here are my poems I read that night:
The Affair
It's not the pure, gold baby of hate
We relate to, but the wire mother,
The one void of softness in her cage.
It's the metaphysical, terrycloth other
We crave. We dig into each other's flesh
Hungrily, though our lips never meet.
You think it will lift your depressing crash,
I use your body to fill my sexual need.
I'm aware of this, our using, our skin
The hard grab of your hands, first on my feet
Then up to my calves. Here is where desire begins.
It knows nothing of wives, nor can it see
Our crimes. We close our eyes to this, but we know.
It's why we don't kiss. Oh sure,
You kiss my hipbone, you bite it on the way down to where I want you to go
To kiss the dark, wet part of me so pure.
Pure as that gold baby, or the Macaque
Tested and tested for its warm longing.
The same longing that gives you back.
The same longing that keeps you here 'til morning.
Golden Spiral
The toil of its symmetry and complicated simplicity haunts me
the learning of it's so daunting, the form and curvature
of each fraction's metamorphosis into the Divine, that 1.618 and so on
translation of perfection
to say you are Golden is just an expression of mathematics
the Sacred Geometry matches the birth of the seashell, the wave, the unfurling of a fern in the dampening of spring, and any rectangle my eyes desire.
They are all one, the one true form of beauty
the one the Universe handed down to us as she kissed the moon's forehead goodnight,
and turned on the stars, a night-light reminder of who we are, and of who we will still be when the sun awakens.
Let us not forget, we did not invent ourselves
a Universal language, it was already here. No amount of adding or subtracting
will ruin it, no matter how divided we become.
08 November 2007
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