January Poetry Slam

messy thoughts

Sky darkens in late afternoon and stays lavender until dawn. Clouds fester outside the door. Jackets growing in size to shelter you. Snow on eyelashes, coffee dripping down sleeves. Subways seats and tapping feet. Solitude found as you wander, checking the address a friend passed across the table. Lined paper. Now crumpled and straining to read. Two page poem folded in your pocket, left hand kissing them. Anxiously fluttering past the 24 hour diner and group of friends mindlessly throwing words around to each other. You find yourself  at the book store, push past the brassy door and breathe warm friendly air.

Welcome to the Messy Poetry Slam.

poemt

I often dream of getting tattooed 

Ink to skin nothing meaningful 

But I still don’t know how to define meaningful

The me in my dream never feels anything 

While I’ve trained the real one to run and hide

At the first sense of unfamiliarity 

Search the word impulsive in the dictionary 

And there I’ll be with doubt as a synonym 

I can’t tell you how the two coincide 

Unlike the ones I dream about

Real tattoos won’t just wash away 

With soap and water 

You will wear them forever on the body 

You have mutilated

Keep covering them with more and more

You lose yourself 

But do you mind?

When I googled the dreams recurring 

What came up was

“Trouble expressing his or herself”

So I put pen to paper in attempt to do so

But doubt is my main synonym

And my mind fails to focus on 

even what I have labeled as passion

I used to blame others for making ignore my heart

Follow on their minds 

I grew up referring to them as the bad guys 

Pretending I was Spider-Man and that they were

Only just out to get me

I used movie terms for myself like

“Misunderstood” and the “underdog”

As a coping mechanism for

Trouble succeeding 

I can’t say this without being the basic cliche

We all already are 

But I’ll keep tattooing and crying

Losing natural colors 

Quicksand planted

Painted ankles

Some say it’s bad to surrender 

But with needles in my skin

I raise my arms

By Natalie Pearl Mosseri

poetry

you confuse me  

mixed signals

an understatement 

but I am okay for now

because mixing signals like drinks 

makes my head all dizzy but in a fun

bubbly kind of way 

like having had one sip

too much

champagne

being giggly and tipsy without knowing

what you’re actually feeling and 

what the intoxication is whispering in your ear
You make my emotions loose direction

I love you for that 

so please continue 

but it’s just that sometimes 

I could use a little something to hold onto

that is not just shiny liquid 

running down my longing hands 

By: Cassandra

poemu

I walked down the street and saw the world move in slow motion around me. 

Nothing was quite what it seemed and I was very confused.

The confusion was not bad though; it was a state of the human condition.  

What was my confusion even about?

The leaves, the shine, the bricks, the people. 

Nothing was quite what it seemed, and everything yet was more itself than before.

So then in fact the change must be in me. 

Or maybe, I’m dreaming as I stroll down the street. 

The confusion is only a manifestation of my current state, and I am yet to awake. 

I look down to pinch my arm as I enter a random café, and see it’s paleness. 

I suppose any person could believe their life is a dream, and there really isn’t a way to distinguish reality from fantasy. 

As I sit, I awake from my deep thought and realize the mind itself can drift into a dream while awake. 

So there is only one true question here.

“Which is more difficult,

to awaken one who sleeps

or to awaken one who,

awake dreams that he is awake?”

By: Paige Peters 

poem

Fear transpires in many forms.

No, I am not talking about instinctual fear, the survival inclination and inherent tendency all animals inhabit.

Rather I am talking about the societal and self-perpetuated fear that we/others have embellished within ourselves.

This fear, this unnecessary fear, transpires into our daily lives in various ways.

It is procrastination. It is denial. Refusal. Guilt. Self-loathing. Lying.

Doubt.

It is unproductivity.

This fear causes us to question, disregard and refute ideas and aspirations we would otherwise pursue. This fear forces us to become apathetic, motionless, in a way that is not romantic nor productive at all.

This kind of fear, the perpetual fear of the unknown and the fear of letting go, holds onto us. Wraps it’s scathing arms around us, breathing, tempting, for us to never let it go.

It latches onto you – a lock.

It seeps through the cracks of your daily routine, withering everywhere you go.

Your hopes, your dreams, your desires; trapped, stagnant. Unable to be achieved.

But every lock has a key.

The key to unlocking and eventually overcoming this kind of unavailing fear, is to not succumb to it.

Do not surrender to this fear. For this fear does not have your best interests nor your safety in mind. This fear is draining, depleting of all creativity and inspiration.

So do not give in. When you begin to move and fear eerily whispers your name, pleading for you to remain, simply turn to it and yell ‘I’m moving on!’

For when you overcome this fear, the greatest of things will happen.

By: M.J

poemm

You are a reminder

Of all the things I ever dreamed of

But never really needed

A reminder

That this foundation I have built

Can be so fragile

So temporary

Your very presence makes me ache

Because I can never really forget

What it’s like to feel unwanted.

There is a jungle out outside my window.

It roars with every gust of wind

And whispers secrets in the cover of night.

It breathes love into my lungs

And sings me to sleep every night with sonnets expressing the voice of the universe.

Am I not good enough

To waste away hours with?

To dance carelessly with?

Am I not good enough to laugh six minutes straight with?

To divulge old secrets with?

Am I not good enough?

To fall in love with?

 Am I not good enough?

 -I am-

good enough

By: Sarah

poemmy

In it’s element, crystal visions flood the sky

A few clouds dance around the gods

Yet when her lip quivers, and her mascara runs

The sky mutes

And darker dreams come to the surface

Each drop a memory

Whispers above in broad daylight

The pavement oil slick

My humble’s dark darker and light brighter

Waltzing against the traffic, the muddy perfume

Silk dampened on my shoulders

Cold from my reluctance

Warm from my welcome

California Rain

In it’s element, crystal visions flood the sky

A few clouds dance around the gods

Yet when her lip quivers, and her mascara runs

The sky mutes

And darker dreams come to the surface

Each drop a memory

Whispers above in broad daylight

The pavement oil slick

My humble’s dark darker and light brighter

Waltzing against the traffic, the muddy perfume

Silk dampened on my shoulders

Cold from my reluctance

Warm from my welcome

By: Lori


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11 Comments

  1. All of these poems are so beautiful! I connected specifically to ‘Awakening Dreams’ because I feel the same feeling of confusion and it was so perfectly put into words in that poem. Lovely post!

  2. Oh how I love reading poetry… I loved all of these, so glad girls&guys out there take time out of their day to sit down and scribble poetry on a paper or simply on their laptop. Thank you for yet another amazing post ♥

  3. Just wanted to tell Natalie Pearl Mosseri that I absolutely loved her poem. Hope I’ll be able to read more of her work somewhere xx

    • Anonymous says

      sarah,
      this poem could not have expressed my own emotions better.
      it’s perfect

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