Chan Chan

Chan Chan playing loudly

He held me --softly

A hint of rage as well

I could not be all he hoped

He was my Spanish sun

He had thought me beauty in silence

I ran to him a fatherless child

He stripped--my religiosity 

I wanted to connect the dots --

the ones on his body-- to see the

Before and after link

Lost snapshots in an ocean of un-wept tears

Curve of his lighted Camel

Tense elevator silence 

Unnecessary cordial conversation

Mounting climax to -- Nothing

The Aftermath confused me still

His tanned skin cut by the white starched sheets

Sounds of late night brawls, midnight kisses

Coming from out there

Sleep would not make me drop 

Into submission, street-lights and

His breathing were companions 

But sleep I could not

He left two days next

Summer had been planned

In the fall he would be arrogant still

A touch of whimsical-mysterious in his hair

I tried to hide it, as long as I could

It came out all colors -- orange, green, yellow

Things unsaid, left unexplored

Though it's a shame I could  not die and let go.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6JEdf7XsV5g

Cheer To The Teenage Years

Red prom dress
because red suits my passion
my personality
that can't be boiled down to predetermined
paradigms.

Black shoes like the hole
sucking up my last silver linings 
the last drops of my will.
They match my darker eyes, hair, skin tone too
and the thoughts twirling in my head.

Prom will be one of those nights
with praises, glasses of champagne 
congratulations for not seeing the jealousies
pains, cuts and bruises of all these years

The hidden puke behind the desks, 
the angry poetry in the bathroom stalls,
the silent cries for help every morning

Prom will be a celebration
of a your selves left behind, 
embracing a world of adulthood
lost papers, lost invincibility
careless coffee stains and 
late night meetings

The days staying up late 
texting you my fears will disappear 
so will the smiles in the hallways
the fast food lunches
the ripping of failed exams

One day it will all mean nothing 
and we'll just have prom pictures 
a collection of broken souvenirs
memorabilia of the days
when we meant something
when we weren't pawns 
in the game of bureaucracy
ghosts on the conformity playground

when "YOLO" was a thing
or we didn't care about
the colour of our hair
the glitter dying in the toilet bowl
when we 
cheered for our teenage years.

Discoveries: Slam Poetry

Poetry has always been a big deal to me. Growing up in my own personal dictatorship at home, it was my escape route to, you know... non shitty stuff. And so, I've recently taken interest in Slam poetry and boy oh boy am I having the best "night after failed math test" day of my life. I present thee with a few of my most promising findings. I've found my calling! (Apart from marrying Jon Snow from Game of Thrones of course).

This is how my road to Slam started today, thanks to Jezebel and Doug Barry. And though what Rachel Rostad may be flawed in some ways, as she mentions here, I think that she has a point. I'm tired of seeing "token" Black girls, token Asian girls, token Hispanic girls... I'm tired of over-simplified characters that I don't feel represent my voice. Maybe I should write my own stuff you say? Sure, but I think it's a valid point to bring up and no, its not being "over-sensitive" of causing "controversy" or whatnot. It's a valid point, because all these girls also use the media and read and see images and when those images don't reflect something that looks or feels even remotely the way you look and feel, you start asking questions. You think I'm crazy? When I was 8, I wanted to be white, thin, with blue eyes like that was the only thing that would solve all my problems. Now, that's crazy.

Kait Rokowski. Holy mother ****. You hit me straight in the gut. Like, wow. I've been down for a while now (parents' divorce, you know...happy times!) and I won't say "depressed" because I haven't had a formal diagnostic. But I've been down. Very low. Not wanting to breathe and live and all that jazz. So I feel so numb when I hear this poem. And, yeah. I've had an 11-year-old tell me "Well, depressed people don't like... have a problem, they're just like...really lazy and don't want to do anything". *HEAD EXPLODES* This girl is a neighbour, so I can't go screaming bloody murder but boy...that struck low. Anyhow, enjoy it!

This right here. I laughed sooo hard. Denice Frohman, ladies and gentleman. It's a hell of a piece and I'm glad I found it today. I've questioned my sexuality, even though my family isn't the best one for that sort of self-discovery... anyhow, back to the poem. It's brilliant. Just listen. SPOILER ALERT: the best part? "Dear straight people, you make me want to fucking rob you." Don't take the quote out of context. Just listen to what she has to say.

Only dude on this list but boy is Jear Singer a beast. Like, oohh boy. You took that literally, didn't you? I mean his skill to convey, in a funny way how he just wants to dance, and how he'll be mocked but he just wants to go out on the dance floor and leave his heart on it. And just the way he start. I won't spoil it for you. Do yourself a favor a see it yourself. If this isn't really your cup of tea, you can always listen to his ABC's.