Last night was both a slam and a feature by Anthony McPherson. I ended up helping to host a good deal of the slam. Therefore, my inability to collect people's words was severely curtailed. Full disclosure: I made most of this up today from half-baked memories and things I said. I couldn't remember everyone's poems eight hours later, sadly, so I winged it. Enjoy.
Side Show
A man up in the bleachers holds a sign up:
"WILL HAVE SEX FOR FOOD!"
It and the vomit covering his shirt
fails to draw the attention
of the girl sitting on the lap
of the band's drummer, still playing.
Time to leave, if not for a smaler stage,
where poets clash like mixed martial arts.
Two Dexters fight for the right
to Prince-ify their first name for the stage.
No weight divisions needed,
if T-Rex 123 falls to the wings
to a butterfly's haiku.
Fact: A poet who pens
a perfect letter to their mother
can perform brutalities on the competition
with the same brutality prescribed
to their relationship with their family.
The Providence Piledriver, the one black man
in a sea of Rhode Island rednecks
finishes off the last trailblazer
for Trayvon Martin.
As with any attempt to educate on race,
there are no total winners.
The prize money is passed out.
The winning poet leaves quiet,
his arms too sore to be raised in victory
while a butterfly's wings call out "Fuck you!"
| The small open mic list |
| The small list of slam competitors first and second rounds. |
Special Thanks to Lee Litif, Lee Varon, Erik Nelson, Martha Boss, Gawaine Ross, Jonathan J. Brother Ali, Eric, D. Ruff, Dexter Roberts, Rocky, Navah The Buddaphliii, Rudy Rudacious, Gladys Teresa Hidalgo, Surat Lozowick, Dexter Garcia, DiDi Delgado and Anthony McPherson. Special Note: Chances are, I didn't use lines from your work this week, but thank you for being at Stone Soup this Monday regardless. It was a wild night.
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