Thursday, September 29, 2011

why i don't do spoken word

i wrote this sunday and performed it at an open mic last night.  it was my first time ever doing spoken word in public.  and i positively loved it (so much so that i did 2 more pieces at the end of the night; maybe that was rude, but i couldn't help it...the audience didn't seem to care haha).  i don't have video of my performance, but i'll probably redo this eventually and post it to youtube.  for now, enjoy reading it! ^__^

they tell me i should give these words a voice
let other people hear them instead of just reading
and i ache for my amorphous vocabulary to have a significant existence
one that runs beyond Microsoft Word, blog posts, and notes on my cell phone

but i'll be the first to admit
i'm afraid to share any of my thoughts out loud

it's funny, because i have dreamed of open mics and coffee houses ever since i received my poetic license
have always wanted to hear the random ish i think carried through the air and to your ears
have had countless chances to make these daydreams realities
but when i look out my front window and find opportunity standing on my stoop
i feel that limelight lust rise in me
that simultaneous taste of bliss and bile
and i swallow it back down
deadbolt the door and think
not now,
some other night,
maybe next time i'll be ready

see, i've never taken well to real time criticism
after i open my mouth and start to speak
i don't know if you'll love me or laugh me out of the building
and i can't just delete the opinions of a tangible audience like they let me do in cyberspace
even if the crowd promises to leave its rotten tomatoes at home
i'll still find myself rehearsing worst case scenarios as if they're anything more than hypothetical situations
i'll still be scared of stuttering, stumbling over my words, talking too fast or too softly to be heard
getting a mean case of stage fright, forgetting my favorite line, tripping over the mic, falling flat on my face
making a fool of myself and a mockery of good poets everywhere

yes, i'm terrified
but today i got up and decided that it was finally time to put a voice to my blatant abuse of alliteration on paper
time to open the door and embrace opportunity
time to come out of hiding, say something crazy, screw better
and if i get to the end of this poem without stopping
i plan to snap for myself until my fingers hurt
regardless of how you decide to receive me


1 comment:

  1. the page margins don't like me. sorry about that! :P