- BC Games
Slam poetry speaks truths
My friend once said, “It’s easy to write slam poetry.”
He said, you just stand on a stage, and speak of the sorrows that fill your heart with rage
Say a random deep line, the audience will believe you are divine, a judge will give you a 10, the audience will clap, and you’ll keep living to write yet another, “rap”
I told him, he’s wrong.
Slam poetry isn’t an algorithm; it doesn’t fit into a formula
It is not equal to Y when it is mx+b,
It is not a bustle of swearing, it is not a poetry reading, its slam simply.
It may be effortless once you realize, that the art of poetry lies, within ever pair of sunken, or bright eyes.
It may come naturally once you become, one, and revolutionize the world with pinpointing struggles in metaphors of the moon and the sun
Everybody has something to share, and say, slam poetry brings that upon in a beautiful way
The revolution has begun.
If you picture a knee-jotting nerdy teen stranded on a poorly lit stage staring at the back of a pencil-plastered page, your thoughts of poetry must disengage
Because standing in front of a crowd, and speaking truth like flowers blossom out of your throat, with every word you speak out loud, standing in unison with people speaking of justice and freedom, giving hope with an underground connection is not anything like a multiple choice selection, because the algorithm lines within him.
My friend once said, “It’s easy to write slam poetry,”
But he didn’t compete in the hullabaloo, where he would have shook from the power of what words can do. We all feel inside, to push that rush of emotion on to the outside, spill yourself with no escape you cannot hide, the audience will have a blown mind.
Words can make you sing and cry, words can make you want to live or die, but the words in this BC Youth Poetry Slam, made me revive.
I competed with the team of McMath Wildcats, we blossomed into a journey of cocoons to butterflies, standing together behind microphones, speaking straight from our soul, we united escaped to power from nervous blurred eyes to the entrance from a rainbow’s hole.
Amanda Michalak—a member of the five-person team, containing, Mikayla Pickering, Rachel Kierszenblat, Claire Christie, and me—talks about the transformation poetry has her days won, how natural it was to come, into a place, where the crowd accepts you as if we are a different section of the human race.
It has took her away from her strife, replaced her with a different outlook on life.
Together our teams agree, on this form of artistry, self expression, leading a journey of self-direction in angst filled teenage-world, sometimes it feels absurd, to feel like your voice can be heard, but the power of poetry, will bring you, and show you, there is nothing you can’t do.
My friend once said, “It’s easy to write slam poetry,” and it is, because the art is already alive, you just have to dig up its grave from inside your mind, and soon he’ll be writing slams too. There is nothing you can’t do.
Because slam poetry is like a moonlit beach with a salt water breeze,
It comes and lives on with,