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Slam Poet

He stepped to the stage
Stood motionless;
Visibly uncomfortable under the bright lights
Feeling the heat from the hundreds of watchful eyes
Surveying his naked soul
Watching his every movement
The room overflowed with anxious energy
As they waited for him to start
He took two steps back
One long, deliberate deep breath
Paused; and then went in

Flawless enunciation
Fast paced cadence
Haunting words hurled at the audience
Like scavengers gnawing,
Pecking dead meat off his soulless skeleton
You could see his skin slowly peeling away
With each word that was gobbled
Consumed by their insatiable thirst for more

Peck

Gut wrenching stories of
Excreting blood
After being painfully penetrated
By blood related penises

Peck

Harrowing stories
Of being the son of a crack addict mama
Who used her lips to suck
Opened her legs to fuck
For money to feed her addiction
She never thought about feeding him;
Crack addicts don’t think

Peck

A painful grimace
As he took us down memory lane
To that dark night where the errant bullets
Singing from the dark sedan
Left his brother in his arms
Motionless
Breathless

Peck

Fire
Spit flying from his mouth
Arms flailing
You could feel the handcuffs get tighter
You could feel the baton smash into his back
Smash across his shoulders
Just before his body convulsed
As the pigs sent shockwaves
Through his nervous system

Peck

2 minutes, 30 seconds
Hurling haunting words of ghetto hopelessness
Broken poverty
Police brutality
Drive-by get low moments
Where he was uncertain if he would live
He wasn’t certain if he wanted to live
Cursing at his self;
“Why do I keep getting up when I don’t even want to live”
Why does he want to live?

Peck

2 minutes, 50 seconds
He looked at the audience
…put his hands on his head…
…paused…
…cried… the coach always told him to cry…
…bowed his head as he took a knee…
…begged…
“Please God, Can I Live”

Peck

The crowd erupted
Spontaneous applause
Standing ovation
Stumping their feet
Screaming in amazement
As the cards turned around one by one

10
10
10
10
10

Flawless
No calculation necessary
No need to deliberate
Crown him
Call him the greatest
Thank him for entertaining you
With those beautiful stories of despair
Crowd his space to tell him
How great his poetry is
How great he is
Snapchat him
Tag him on IG
DM him to ask him if he will perform
At your upcoming showcase
Promote him
Do everything
Do everything
Do every single thing except ask him
If he is okay

Peck

Long after the crowds have dispersed
The bright lights of the stage have gone down
The people have stopped crowding his space
Their gaze is no longer upon him

He stands alone
Empty
Feeling like a zero
…and still asking the question…
“Why do I keep getting up when I don’t even want to live?”

Peck

They loved his words
They loved his delivery
They loved his performance

Peck

He gave it all to the judges
To the crowd, and
Forgot to keep any for his own healing

Peck

They never asked if he was okay?

Peck

The empty soul of a slam champion
Who healed souls
While dying a little bit with each word he spit

Peck

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