Slam!

Here is a recording of one of my slam poems. More recordings will come at some point (this one I found on youtube, the others I will have to make myself)

Being Productive

Here's some Sugarland.

Time, Time, Time
it creeps toward the end of days
it fills my head with clouds and haze
which hide the light and shade my life,
obscure all truth and spark blind strife.

I wait until the sky will clear
I choke the while on my fear
that I will never see the sun
but just the dark that makes me run.
paranoia spreads unchecked
makes all normalcy a wreck.
terror poisons dead with dread
I dream this nightmare, hope has fled

along the banks of blackened shores
I find a boat with holes and oars.
I swim toward the murk I've drawn
seeking later early dawn.

-Nuttin' For Christmas-
At christmas time we should have fun
so tell me why I must be good.
It's true I laugh at people's pain
though I know better, that I should
be kind to them , not be their bane
(if only for my own sweet gain)
but I don't want to be a nun,
I 'd rather please my hoodlum brain
with firecrackers in the wood
or chasing cats with my squirt gun.
It may be sinful to be vain
or mean to spit in sister's bun
but i'm gettin nothin' for Christmas
so why start now, it's far too late.
I'm getting nothin' for Christmas
now help me loosen Papa's skates.

-Coming Home-
You know
I  just  can't  stand
to be
alone  in  this  house.
It's just
too  big  for  me
without
you  here  to  be
my best
friend  in  this  world
and my 
lover.  I  see
just how 
lonely  I  am.
Now this
here  is  it  now.
no more
waiting  for  you,
I'm lea-
ving  if  you're  not
coming  home.

-Down in Missisippi (Up to No Good)-
One two three four runnin' out the front door
Five six seven eight none of us is gonna wait
Dance, bound, hit the town, shake away the breakdown
Buy a round, music sounds, take the floor it's profound
Shimmy, shake, it's getting late but we ain't going home straight
First we have to hit the clubs, stoppin' in at all the pubs
See you in the morning loves, tonight we gonna rise above.

Maybe, Baby (New Year's Day)

This is my favourite song on the album. It's an amazing piece about love and second chances, with the most beautifully sketched climax I've ever heard (or seen for that matter.)

-Maybe, Baby (New Year's Day)-
One long step, two long step.
Breathe cold air, holds me back.
Wind whips hard, shivers my spine.
Hot smoke tang, fireworks early.

One step two step, one step two step.
Your eyes dropped down, my eyes squeezed shut.
Tears seared pale skin. Cold left, pain came.
Anger then, fear now. Fear fuels fast forward.

Step step, step step, step step.
Moon up, guard down, chill fills.
Turn round, face home, go back?
Wind blows, whistles 'No,' course set.

Run run run run run run run run.
Pain will not ease past will not leave.
Countdown starts now 10 9 8 7.
Door snips hand grips 3 2 1 lips.

City of Silver Dreams

-City of Silver Dreams-
Windows dressed in frost and ice.
Candles glimmer, flicker, gleam.

Bright star beckons home
travelers far, journeyers wide.

Bells shimmy, shimmering silver,
singing angels golden songs.

Snow soaks sounds, liquifies light,
gives birth to the spirit of dreams.

NOT a Christmas Poem

In case anyone's wondering, the reason I'm posting at 4:28 in the morning is because I'm at an all nighter. It's one of my favourite parts of the holiday season, specifically on New Year's Eve, when my friends and I traditionally pull an all nighter.
There may be a poem about the middle of the night in a while, but also I might sleep, I'm not sure yet. In the mean time here's another poem off the Sugarland Christmas album. This is one of my favourite songs on the album. Although it is a traditional Christmas hymn, my poem has nothing at all to do with Christmas. Anyway, here it is.

-O Come, O Come, Emmanuel-

Is it grand or is it wrong or
is it sad to sing a song all
'bout a life we never had when
all that's left are crippled dreams.

I can hear melodic verse which,
spoken loud, makes true the worst of
what was said between our souls. We
face each other and our holes where

used to dwell a potent love with
chords reduced now to a dove of
deepest black and to a song of
frigid ice. With faces long we

fill the hall and echoes loud make
still us all although we vowed to
never leave we cannot stay here
anymore as our day ends.

Christmas Carols

So we're approaching Christmas again (and Hannukah, and Kwanzaa, and others, but for the sake of this post Christmas is the point.)
Every year, I am dissapointed by all the people who complain about Christmas music. Some of the complaints have some factual basis: cheesy, repetitive, and those I understand even if I don't agree with them. But some of the complaints completely confound me, such as claims that they are "too happy" which is apparently "not natural." My question is: why is that a bad thing? Why is it a bad thing that for just one month a year, we are expected to be happy. Personally I support happiness year round, but apparently I'm just about the only one.
So in order to create a little holiday cheer, I'm going to continue my Sugarland project by adapting thier Christmas album (almost all of which is original music by the way, thus disproving the theory that Christmas music is just identical reproductions of the same handful of songs.)
Anyway here is the beginning of my version of Sugarland's Gold and Gold and Green

-Gold and Green-

Golden glow bathes my home.
Candle sticks flicker shades.
Butterscotch melts on wick.

Sparkling snow glimmers bright.
Optic tricks fill the dark.
Diamonds, watch, reflect stars.

Twinkletrees standing high
White but warm guarding heart.
Green of life, sliver sparks.

Darkness flees in moments.
Colour storm on sky's coast.
Peace is rife with lit dark.

Sugarland

While I was working on the Poem a Day project, I started writing a series of poems based on the songs of Sugarland (one of which has been posted here.)
I've decided to continue that. So keep an eye out for Sugarland poems to come.

I'm also working on recording myself performing Slam poems and will post those soon  - hopefully.

But for now here's this, a narrative poem that I am quite proud of:

The Lover, the Mother, and the Unscrupulous Brother

An ode to my lover, a note from my


mother, a lesson for my most unscrupulous

brother. Time may be patient and seem to

be kind, but healing my wounds takes a lot

more than words.



Dear you broke my dear heart when

I gave it to you and you turned from my

love and betrayed with my blood all the faith

that I had in our piece of forever.

You should have held loyal to tight binding chains

of the promises woven from your lips

to mine. But instead you chose him for your

arrows from Cupid and mine were torn out

leaving holes bleeding faith in a river

that leads to the circles of hell. If only

you had such a mind that could grasp all the

pain brought from words that he spewed

on the night when he wood you away.

Perhaps that would lend you the wisdom to

see that your wounds on my soul run as deep

as the sea and because I can’t swim I

am breathing in water and swallowing death.



Woman who raised me then tore down again

all my dreams and my hopes for a life free

of pain. I’m sure you will find if your life

keeps its grip on its sanity happily

wading through memories, never has

anyone loved you like me. The curse of

Penelope settled inside of your

once tender heart but instead of her faith

in the spirit of he who you claim to

have loved you ignored the years past and you

cast off your grief like a rain sodden hat.

Then you wrote to your son and told him to

chase love and I lost my whole life to your

payment for all of the time that I spent

pouring tears down the drain in my sorrow

for he who deserted the vows that he

made on the day when he pledged you his life.



My man, my friend, we once were so close but

now we have nothing but years in between

us and just like the rest of our hate-ridden

clan what’s left of our blood bond will soon start

to fade. I’d found what I wanted a woman

I loved and could smell my own happiness

settling upon me like snow on the ground

in the winter which leads happy bears with

full bellies to drift off to bliss as they

sleep finding true rest for months at a time.

But then you came along with your heat and

your light and you melted the snow so my

world was soggy and suddenly fraught

with the trappings of frescoes unfinished

so angels lack halos which renders them

men. Here’s the cost of your pride: you are now

like your mother and brother abandoned.



I need to move on and be done with this

life in order to grieve and start over

again. So call this farewell you won’t see

me again. I’m leaving right now and just

like all our love I’ll fade into the dusk.

by Julian Legere