12DB, Day 9: Poetry Blam!

A lot of people don’t know this about me, but I’m pretty big on the Poetry Slam/Improv circuit. I won the title of “Fresno’s Chack Schmackinest” (poetry types—what can you do?) in 2006. I wasn’t in town for 2007, and we all know about the poets’ strike of ’08, but I’m hoping to regain my Chack this year. ((The date and time of the Poetry Snerzen have not yet been made public, but it will undoubtedly take place in a dank, abandoned warehouse, probably on the wrong side of the tracks (i.e., Chinatown).))

To that end, I figured I would begin practicing—and where better than here, on my blog? ((Answer: Nowhere.)) The following is completely unedited, improvised poetry (slamming, stream of conscience, yes conscience, style):

The rustling, wrestling of the leaves
don’t bother the trees
they wrestle with leaves. Why?
the turbulent tide cannot abide the
what do you Have to hide?
could it be
what i see
when i need the pizza
pie. YES! but not the best—
take your rest when roaches infest
like coaches well-dressed—
a soccer ball tie? it was ok
i guessed.

don’t strain your eyes as I stylize the big surprise
like mustard
or custard
the nuggets are blustered
out of their head
winding up dead—
the coach’s well fed
I don’t mean to be abrasive
i think the time’s come for persuasive
thoughts and words
the flocking of birds
with buffalo herds
revenge of the nerds
he listens and heards—
homonyms, bomb-onyms
The chances are slim
lighting grows dim
a guy named tim—
my uncle?
some other Tim

It’s not the tim i know
business is slow
like a lazy metaphOR
dressed like a whore
everything’s a whore
if ever in doubt, call it a whore.
People will think you’re deep.
Uh… sleep?

**snappa snappa* snappa snappa snap***

Yeah, I’d say I still got it. And yes, you suspected correctly: that was about Barack Obama’s historic election. Also, a guy named Tim. But not my uncle. A different Tim.

I’ll keep you updated on when the annual Snerzen will materialize out of the night like a streetlamp fight, fight or flight… Sorry. Sometimes it’s hard to turn it off once I get going.

In any regardless, keep in mind that I am available for live poetry writings (NOT readings) for your next birthday party or office potluck (also available for firing people through improvised poetry—in this economy, you can’t afford not to pay me to fire people).

That’s all for Day 9. Keep it poetical!