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Sunday, November 27, 2005

I attended a poetry reading
I think that it is called Performance Poetry
It was non-competitive and non-censored. Maybe that should be re-considered. I was only moderately entertained. But i am not sure that i was supposed to be. Perhaps, the metaphors, the rhythmic mode of the speakers’ voice, the crescendo of the stanzas or the emotion of the poet is beyond my simple appreciation. Or my ability to care while sober and without a clove-induced buzz.
Some of the poetry was rather delightful. More reminded me of a fifth grade talent show.
Sometimes, I wonder what people are thinking when they share their poetry. Is it like having a pathology that compels you to crave attention and performance poetry is the only legitimate outlet for manipulating that attention? Is it like being uber-sexual and wanting everyone within the sound of your voice to have an orgasm or at least squirm in their seats?

I am sure that it does not matter. I was more annoyed at paying $10.00 at the door, regular price for accurately poured drinks, and constantly hearing the dj remind the audience to be quiet. Perhaps, they were discussing the price of admission and the quality of drinks (a 500% jump from the previous poetry reading night).Last saturday, i thought i could listen to some R&B, some performance art and have a drink.
I am always uneasy when people read their poetry. I have several books of poetry on my bookshelf. Imagine my surprise while during a funeral I heard one of my favorite poems read as if it were original. I was appalled and mortified that someone would use this opportunity to express themselves.
Once when i was asked to provide a speech at a scholarship reception, i used a poem to relay my thoughts about the opportunities the scholarship had provided to me. I figure poetry is nice in some instance.
In honor of those men and women who put thought to paper and, their feelings to poetry and who ruined or assisted my buzz, I have written SEVERAL poems for you.
I have used capital letters where the emphasis should be. Spaces are pauses.

My Father's Gift

Hay does not NOURISH me
This FEVER will not SUBSIDE
I am one of FIVE Americans
Who need MEDS to survive

It’s NOT a forever cold
My sneeze is NOT contagious
I am NOT a freak
But my MUCOUS lasts for ages

Years of shots, PILLS and drops
To control my eternal rhinitis
My father’s gift,theses allergies
And every six MONTHS there’s sinusitis

Poem 2: My Sneeze

My suffering My RASH
My sneeze
Achoo
My snot, my HIVES
My sneeze
Achoo
My eyes, my TEARS
My sneeze
Achoo

Poem 3: A Bitch, the Itch
My antihistamines
My Itch
My sudephrine
My itch
My decongestants
My itch
My allergy’s
A bitch

Poem 4: You Suck
The trees, the grass
The pollen sucks
The mold, the mildew
The spores suck
The perfumes, the oils
The smell sucks
And finally
Your handsantizers
Make You suck

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