Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Stone Soup Croutons, 3-13-17, In the Room


Stone Soup Croutons is a weekly poem I write using lines and impressions picked up from poems overheard from Stone Soup's open mic readers and features. I figure out a title (and sometimes the rest of the poem) later. You can read the other ones I've done since 2015 here.

Last night was the release party for The Elephant's third issue. This mean a slam hosted and sponsored by the editors. The late entry is due to a combination of today's snowstorm and being a little worn out from hosting both the open mic and slam while keeping both time and score.

Nonetheless, I was able to piece a poem together from the open mic and slam, urged on by this asshole's comments earlier that day. Last night's poems seemed like an unprompted response to senator King's comments, which made me very happy.


In the Room

They ask senators instead of scientists,
and they agree: It doesn't matter
who came first, but how many babies
we have before we win.

It's how comfortable losers feel
resigning themselves to tokenhood
for suburban friendship circles.

Talk about sex to keep the space
a light rumbling giggle,
keep the train running smoothly.

The Nazis keep winning because
they know how to be Nazis and we don't.
The trains we're on can be
repurposed at any time they wish.

Stay calm. Better to be hungry
then get fed to a hateful maw
that gashes more than it ingests.
At lest your decrepit car
still takes you to your job.

We grow faster. Boys are men
before out from behind their desks.
Girls stop being twelve before twelve,
raised like dolls, made collectible,
their voice boxes so worn
as to only sing their songs in the rain.

This bitter crop keeps you alive this winter.
You can dance during the next
lunar calendar, on another planet.
No music now. Your beatbox has bruises
down to the ends of your sleeves.

The burning church means a stock market point,
a new apartment to rent out.
The drug addicts move to Hades' exit
every day, always looking
behind, always pulled back.
The single mother makes Hades home,
always looking back and forward,
ever a hunted protector.

Remember your favorite food from grandmother.
Remember the gender name on the door you enter.

Remember the babies.
We need as many bodies to huddle
together in tundra America.


Apologies to James Van Looy for not getting him on the mic at the end.
Yes, I had people on the open mic compete in the slam. My rules.
The terrifying truth of how Chad does math.

Last night's slam winners: Tony DelaRosa (Third) Isabel Alexandre (Second) and Amari Simpson (First).

Special thanks to Dexter Roberts, Jamilla Van Dyke, Chris Fitzgerald, Gawaine Ross, Julia Carlson, Erik Nelson, Amari Simpson, Alexa Reed, Martha Boss, Lucy Holstedt, Janai Busby, James Van Looy, Tony DelaRosa, Kirk Etherton and Isabel Alexandre (aka Izzy Breezy). Extra special thanks to Elephant editors Jamillia vanDyke-Bailey, Warren Hinkle IV and Erik Anker


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