WOWps donation match up ... we need your help!!
Current mood: excited

Two very generous friends of Slam have offered $1000 each as matching grant money in support of the first annual WOWps event.  For each dollar we can raise between now and the end of the event, March 15th, these poetry angels will drop a matching buck in the bucket.

While we love these donors and wish them well in every endeavor in their lives, we would also like to separate them from their money on this challenge.  The truth is that they would like you to help PSI relieve them of those checks.

Can you pitch something in the bucket?  Even a buck or two will help because each dollar gets matched. Go to the Gifts & Donations portion of the online store to contribute at www.poetryslam.com.  Be sure it gets in the WOWps bucket by using the online store.  For every dollar we can raise between now and the conclusion of the event (March 15th) as a donation, they will match.  And we have at least two grand to work with.

Can you help?  We only have 12 days to do this.  Help us out.  And please help us spread the word too.  Put the online store link on your websites, your blogs, your social network pages ... anywhere you can think to try to raise this money in only a few days.

Thank you for all you do in support of poetry.  All over the planet.

7:10 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Rustbelt was wicked cool!!
Category: Friends

While there was no doubt to anyone within earshot that I was stressed THE FUCK out, to the point of not being able to speak above a whisper, and at times even that much was too much ... I couldn't have enjoyed myself more. In fact, I now truly believe that my lack of vocal ability only enhanced the weekend for me. Afterall, I got Matt Toth and Chris August to lay hands on me ... what woman wouldn't be drolling over that prospect ... and oh, sorry Sonya, but I was only borrowing him.

I am so friggin proud of my team for being such a great TEAM and not only throwing their best effort and pieces on the stage but for also throwing the weight of their support behind each other. Omari ... you brought the heat and the passion just like I knew you would. Londell, no one could ask for a better team mate and performer. You've got the energy and style that keeps them buzzing. Phoenix, thanks for rolling along for the cause and helping out. I always have a great time when your around. And Aricka. My little Aricka. I said it all this weekend, but I'll say again how amazing you were. You made it to Indy finals and showed them just how classy and profound you can be.

Thank you to Justice for coming down at THE LAST MINUTE, literally he had less than one hour to decide if he wanted to travel three hours for a weekend roadtrip to help replace the Kalamazoo team. You blew the mic up my friend! Thank you to Versiz for being the leadman on the Kzoo expedition and for being ... well, Versiz. Congrats man on taking first place in Indy finals with Alvin. Still think you two should have battled it out. Would have loooooved to see what else was up your sleeves. Thank you to Ed for holding it all together and not wigging out. Thank you to Will for helping Ed hold it all together and not wig out. Thank you to everybody ... and I do mean EVERYBODY for helping ME hold it together and not wig the fuck out. Thank you.

Thank you to the beautiful woman who was the gate keeper at the first bout, I never got your name sweetheart, but thank you for the pineapple juice and ginger root. Thank you to Carlos, owner of Cafe Bella, for being an amazing individual who even though no one should up for the luncheon he had put together until two minutes before he was ready to go home he was still the most gracious, and vivacious, of hosts. Thank you to Cleveland ... man!! You some FINE fucking men. And I do ... mean ... FINE. Um, um, um! And life savers. Thanks for being the other half of the Frankenstein team. Toronto ... you guys are always an inspiration and joy. Thank you to all the teams for being such amazing writers and poets. I adore poetry so much and you guys make me fall in love with it more every time I see you. And thank you to everyone who told me to shush and hugged me for good luck. I needed it and apparently ... it helped.

Verdell ... your my hero.

Dan ... Mr. Vaughn ... you got me crushing now. Those pipes ... beautiful!! Loved it.

Alvin Lau ... that damn Dance piece! Probably the single best visual piece I have ever seen. Never knew you could move like that. Stunning!!

While there were bumps in the road ... Ed ... you put together a great weekend. Thank you.

To everyone who came out for the weekend to hang, to read poetry, to listen, to judge or just because ... I had a great time and it was all because of you.

8:00 AM - 7 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

When I Rise
Category: Writing and Poetry

8:53 AM - 5 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

Star Wars vs. Star Trek ... who would conquer whom?
Current mood: nerdy

So ... I'm a trekkie. Whatever that means! According to one site though, you know your a trekkie when you find yourself sitting in traffic and you start seriously wondering why you're using this primitive form of transportation. Okay ... so that would be me.

Voyager is currently my favorite but I was founded on the Next Generation, and as some of you may or may not know, they recently ran a Voyager marathon and play like four episodes of Next Generation a day sooooo ... my DVR is up to 80%.  I am so serious.

Anyhoo ... I coerced my good friend, James, into watching the "Year of Hell" with me.  For you non-trekkers, that a double episode of Voyager.  Third season, I think.  It is during our sojourn into the Delta quadrant that the debate sparks. Could Darth Vader beat the Borg?

Of course, I'm like totally NOT!! but James is inclined to disagree. So let us just ponder the question for a moment and ask ourselves: Could the Force keep up with Warp technology and does a Jedi have anything on the Q continuum?

Hmmm ...

5:42 AM - 6 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

My Annual Christmas Card - I love this one

10:49 AM - 4 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

Ohio ... a standard of Excellence

I should have done this a long time ago ... like when I had my first feature in Ohio back in November at the Black Pearl with Will Evans and Ed Mabrey ... but hey, I'm a procrastinator.

Talk about smoooooooth! And I don't mean Ed's voice, which is more like the velvet baritone of a well tuned base.  Um ... smooth. But no ... I'm talking about the way they held it down.  From opening their homes for us to crash in ... to making sure that we were properly fed and cared for.  I mean ... fine dining.  Brown sugar salmon, baby!! What you know about that!?  You don't know nothing bout that!

The Black Pearl is truly an open mic experience worth savoring.  The ambience, the people and the hosts!  Ed and Will have a set that is truly inspiring.  As are their words.  The men of Ohio really know how to treat a lady.

Which brings me to my weekend in Cleveland with Phoenix and ButterSoulFly.  My day started off on the way wrong foot.  I was trying to do too much. Which, if you ask my friends, is NOTHING new.  But mixing my trying-to-do-too-much with holiday-shoppers-bent-on-destruction-over-the-latest-barbie-doll and you have yourself a whole barrel full of what not to do on a holiday Sunday.

Anyhoo ... when finally I found myself in the car on the way to Cleveland vibing with my girls and up until the time I left Cleveland the following morning at the crack of booty-hole ... I had an amazing time.  OneTruth, Q-Nice, Tom Noy, John and McKinley ... amazing brothas.  We had VIP status complete with our own curtained off area and personal bouncer.  While we were on stage, they moved our possessions and product to the front so that we could proceed directly there unencumbered.  The KamiKaze itself had a very sheik setup with couches on the stage and everything.  After the set, the amazing gentlemen I spoke of earlier took us to a bar up the street for drinks where we proceeded to clown on just about everybody who dared to attempt Christmas carols on the mic.  But Phoenix brought the house down when she belted out People Make the World Go Round.  What a night to remember.  She was the only one to receive a standing ovation.  That closed out the night.  There was nothing to do after that but go home.  Which we did.

I just want to say that if all touring could be like Ohio ... I would never come home.

Thank you, gentlemen.

7:01 AM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

The Mulatto Revolution (poem)
Current mood: bitchy
Category: Writing and Poetry

I am the reason you now have multi-ethnic

as one of the selections you can choose from

on most applications

this change in conformity

which is just one step in a very non-strategic formula

I referred to as

the mulatto revolution

came when I was about twelve years old

PSAT's can kiss my ass

and every questionnaire there after

I refused to mark any less than three boxes

at any given time

including little post scripts at the bottom of every entry

demanding that they give me something else to work with

because these choices told them little to nothing

about who I really am

Please ...

don't ask me my ethnic background

I have too many to chose from and

your insulting my ancestors by making me decide

what color I would like to be today

and for those of you who are truly interested

the mulatto revolution

isn't something you can join

its not the next wave of radical evolution

waiting for a rally or picket to promote

and its definitely not gonna be televised

why

because I'm broke

but if I did have the money

you would then naturally see my smart ass smile

on every television across America

declaring that the normal revolution

has been interrupted for this very special announcement

please

do not attempt to adjust your screen

yes

I appear to be white

but I have black hair

and no

this afro puff is not merely a fashion statement

just like the Claddah on my finger

and green tint to my vision

it's a symbol of the people it descended from

whether I like or not

whether I can comb it or not

and just like those people

my hair

will not budge

it will not bend

it will remain coarse and resilient

it will stay in your face as a silent reminder

of who I am

and where I came from

and if you touch it the wrong way

YES

it will cutcha ya motherfuckin hand off!!

so while your sitting there puzzling and

wondering about what exactly my point is

amidst all this black revolution

and Irish contraband

let me break it down for you

because I'm sick of the question

do you feel more white or black

I've always wondered ...

how do you feel a color?

and I know as a poet I should already know this

but just call me simple

because the last thing I felt

was horny as hell

and while graphically I might describe this to you

by using scarlet red lingerie

and crimson blood candles meant to seduce and mystify

I did not feel rage

I certainly did not stop

and I experienced no sudden urge to go scalping that night

your color association and preconceived notions

of how I should feel, act, think and talk

based solely upon my level of melanin

really bothers me

when I'm dirty

I don't feel black

when I'm jealous

I don't turn green

and on those rare occasions when I feel pure

the last thing I think of is joining the ranks of white supremacy

but I don't hate white people

and I don't feel more comfortable in an all black crowd

so ... if your little application really requires me to make a

distinction between the bagpipes of my grandmother's homeland

and the tribal drums of my father's 

I'd have to say ...

go stick it up your ass and use it for toilet paper

cuz that's about as close to a decision as I'm gonna get!

5:53 AM - 3 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

Having Soul (poem)
Category: Writing and Poetry

there's never an easy way to strike up a racist conversation

at least

you'd think there wasn't

but its funny how many I've manage to find myself in

without even trying too hard

well ...

I guess you don't have to try too hard

when you're a walking billboard for biracial relationships

but still ...

you'd think people wouldn't be so blase about it

I mean,

she asked me,

flat out,

"What does it feel like to be white?

You do know that your white, don't you?

What is it like to know that your hated at least

half of the time?

Do you connect more with your white side,

because you look so white,

or with your black side

because you live around here?

As if that really makes you black!

And is it true what they say ...

about white people?

Ya know,

that they have no soul!?!

Your mother's white.

Isn't she?"

she even went on to insinuate

that any association with my own family

was evil

that I should denounce them immediately

accept the inevitable

and cleanse myself

because it wasn't my fault after all

and don't I want to save my soul

under those terms

I'm not so sure

so I asked her,

"What does it feel like to be black?

You do know that your black, don't you?

What is it like to know that your hated at least

all of the time?

Does it hurt?

Does your skin itch every time you walk into a room

and everybody notices you?

Is it something tangible you can feel

like 50 pounds of water pressure

in

your

face !?!

A bloody whip at your back

or Texas dirt under your nails

after you have clawed your way back

from the brink of death

only to have your throat slit

in the name of white supremacy!

Can you imagine hanging from poplar trees like

strange rotting fruit to be jeered at,

or having your children sold to the highest bidder

with tears streaming down their faces

their eyes silently begging you to protect them

while your bound and gagged under

the foot of an unrepentant white man?

Do you know what that must have been like?

Have you forgotten the fight for equity so soon?

The fight that not only your parents bled through,

but so did mine!

Or did the struggle end for you on May 17th?

51 years ago.

only 51 years ago.

My mother can remember days like those!

As 5 percent of the white kids

still attending school in the inner city

she knows what it feels like to stand out in a crowd.

Pale white face,

long red hair,

and bright green eyes.

Did she have soul?

Ya damn right she did!

Her soul kept her back straight

when chubby mocha fingers pulled at her straightened locks

and called her cracker.

Her soul pushed her head up

when cruel vanilla fists declared her a nigger lover

not worthy or their stature.

Her soul endured the years of interracial hatred

and four children later

her soul still keeps her going!

Her soul is in me.

Like a country of proud Irish men

standing strong against oppression and greed,

her soul bleeds through me.

The song of my ancestors ...

from coast to coast ...

spanning oceans and continents,

sings in my veins so loud I hear little else

save their tribal drums,

their war cries,

their bagpipes,

and their pleas for freedom.

So do I think I have soul?

Ya damn right I do!

I have the soul of many nations.

How about you!?!

7:55 AM - 3 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

I wanted to know him (poem)
Category: Writing and Poetry

I wanted to know him

so I started with the inside of his thigh

and traced my mouth along the curve of his ambitions

just to the left of his good intentions

and right above the promises he could never seem to keep

no matter how many times he made them

that was his favorite spot

his sweet spot

tucked silently among the coarse curls of his aspirations

and the twin sons of his pride

it laid dormant until I came along

and I

full of ego and hope

believed its occasion was just for me

so I sent it a kiss

sucked away his uncertainty

licked at his libido

and discovered a few secrets even he had forgotten

he encouraged me with words of strong emotion

and lies of undying devotion

its not that I believed him or anything

it was just nice to hear sometimes

I especially liked it when he wrapped me in arms

of false security and told me how much I meant to him

without really telling me how much I meant to him

the words fell easy from his lips

and landed between my shoulder blades

like good conversation after sex

I know your probably wondering

"why is she being so damn gullible and easy!"

well ...

its because I wanted to know him

and my first education taught me to start with his sweet spot

thats where his dreams are

dreams of future alliances with stars way too far above his head

to reach but

that never seemed to stop him from trying

and I

in my eagerness to please

was willing to offer my assistance

in any way necessary

so I eased my way along his hips

kissed every tangible inch I could find to kiss

nibbled the tight areas of his doubt

and persuaded his trust

... one lick at a time ...

told him with silence and the firmest side of my tongue

how much I enjoyed his promises

and would he please just tell me another one

tell me how with the use of my hands

and the softest part of my body

he would discover new depths of manhood

with which to love me even more

tell me how many different languages

he would paint across the horizon

of his newfound affection

using only shades of crimson and lavender

the tones of passion and sincerity

and not mean one single word

but it didnt matter

not as long as he kept those arms wrapped around me just a little bit longer

held onto me just a little bit tighter

and folded my vulnerability into visions of he and I

living happily ever after

in a house built for two

but with room to grow

my very own white picket fence

and 2.5 perfect little kids

It didnt matter that where he envisioned lust

I saw only love

It didnt matter that when my kisses exploded

along the base of his belly

tickled the tips of his fancy

and he had reached his moment of enlightenment

that his feet

and those arms

would be but a breath from my front door

and down the stairs leading out of my life

It didnt matter that I wanted to be his wife

he only wanted a moment

one stolen

like the kiss we had started with

for him ...

it was sex

for me ...

it was much much more

but ... you see

when a girl wants to know a boy

and a woman comes across a man

and she wants to know him

the way I wanted to know him

she starts with a kiss

placed along the curve of his ambitions

just to the left of him good intentions

7:41 AM - 5 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

Joys of Motherhood (poem)
Category: Writing and Poetry

so

8:20 AM - 2 Comments - 3 Kudos - Add Comment