Note: Slam poetry is meant to be read, so read it silently first, and read it aloud again for the best effect. Also, I welcome critiques, I've got some more kind of like this if anyone's interested in reading them.
You sit and wonder why my poetry's so dark
'Cause at night, I feel like Noah's ark
Sailing through the waves of pain,
While the water drips down into my brain.
You know this face of mine that smiles in the light
But don't hear the tears that show fear at night.
Looking back towards all the chances I've lost,
You realize what my being here has cost.
But you can try to organize and emphasize the style
That I put on to show you, dying all the while.
My collar's no fashion statement, it's here for my pride,
And to show you what I lost to be real inside.
You talk about innocence, and ignore what you have,
When it's all gone, you'll see why I wanted to save
What was left of my own, but it's useless now
All I can do is just ask myself, how
Can you stand to see this black and white world
Where we're not burning hatred but martyrs instead
With the broken children all lying down, curled
Up at the feet of the world that beat them!
And oddly enough, the knives ease the pain,
As their blood hits the floor, then up grows the stem
Of the rose that is hope, to be cut down again
By the world you live in, pretend to see color
On this black and white ball where you slaughter eachother!
You splatterpaint red what used to be white
While the few that cry out, trying to make right
What the world made wrong, and bring it to light,
Why my poetry's dark? That's now in your sight.
But how do we fix it, I think to myself,
I know! Put your fell pride on a shelf!
Don't pin down the rainbows that try to stand up,
Admit that you're wrong, and just let them get up!
I don't think that I'm perfect, quite the contrary,
I know I've been wrong, when truth was so scary,
That I couldn't face it, so I stood up to leave,
Knowing deep down that I'd been deceived.
I came back years later, and there in the rubble,
The truth was still there, untouched by the trouble
Of shaking faith and an unthinking mind,
I picked it up, and though not unkind,
The truth burned my palms, but I didn't let go,
The truths is here to, and it'll only grow.
So embrace it now before you're swallowed alive,
Made a cold brainless husk, mind washed by the tide.
