If I were to perform, this is what my first poem would be
But this the PG version, because I’m on this 21 day fast
Tryna work on my language
The languish I’m feeling because my pen doesn’t feel the same when…
I have to switch from my cursive script to Times New Roman
But that Helvetica be slipping sometimes
Man this Comic Sans ain’t it!
Now the first open mic I ever saw was on YouTube
It had poets with scarfs tied around the mic stand
Folks in the crowd snapping fingers to the cadence of the MCs flow
And over here?
The air is muffled by cherry hookah midst, fried chicken wings, a lil liquorrrrr
And the crowd chanting REWWINND!!!!
When it’s some fresh fire spitting
Or new New Ish, Ish Newwwwwww
When that virgin piece decides to pop out on and show us
Yea, K-Dot still got me in a chokehold
I’m choking on my words I wrote when I recorded my last blog audio
Ya’lI…how the heck am I gonna get on stage?
But someone was trash tonight and y’all still hyped him up
So hype me upppp!
Gas me up!
Unleaded in the Honda
Cruising down 85
The pen be spinning
Bend that corner, whooaaaa
This girl is suckkkksssssss!!!
Yea I suck the life outta this pen
Had to go refill it, because this ball point wasn’t challenge enough
I had to get a fountain pen to tap into the overflow of thoughts waiting to be captured
And strung together like notes in a new piece
Trying to compose my peace
I find it in words
They captive me
An interesting addiction
From the diction
To the description
To the syntax
A jungle of letters waiting to find their place in a prose of thoughts
But I’m not ready for the stage yet
I low key don’t like the sound of my voice like THAT
Sometimes it be like that
Trying to see the poet box I fit in
See you got the nassstty ones
Y’all some lil freaks ain’t ya?
Then you got social conscious ones
Who talk about real stuff
Have you bobbing ya head
Feeling like you’re being transported from that bar stool to that church pew
As I nod and say “preach!”
Pass the collection plate or I mean that QR code
That tithe
That cover fee
Then we got the singer turned poet because… why not?
Ya’ll about to hit us with one stanza of open mic
And 3 verses of song
With bridge, chorus, and an outro
Ya’ll don’t be wanting to get off the stage
Rance Allen looking ahhhhhhhh
Mr. DJ—cut the mic please
And then there’s me?
Just a witty Cajun girl from the bayou
That loathes public speaking
But also loves to read and write
One day this introverted soul
With slight extroverted tendencies
Will grace this stage
And when I do
I’ll perform this piece
And y’all better yell—New Ish, Ish Newwwwwww
Because it’s new to y’all
lunchboxthoughts 