Revisiting the slam

Since I had so many people coming to my blog on the news of my Slam victory, I thought I'd share with you the three poems I did in the competition. For the most part, my poems don't really have titles so I'll just type them in.

It's mainly a spoken word deal, but hopefully you'll get a bit of the feeling of what it was like to hear them.

Kiss me and hallucinate.
I will be your spirit vision,
dream casting,
Rippling your consciousness.
I'll be your drug, your peyote, your green coyote.
Now commune with nature, worship the moon.
Let my children hear music
And dance, yes, dance!
Something put me in a trance.
Was it mushrooms, funky collard greens or
rank whipped cream?
I don't know.

Zenf on my tongue, hummus on my nose
And I'm thinking of your.
Zenf on my tongue, spine tingling sensations
I am standing barefoot in mud
beneath a waterfall
I see a rainbow, a pot of oro.
Behold, a stained glass window
of the resurrection.
This is going down
on the 8th day of the week,
the time outside of time, the rhyme inside the rhyme.

On the 8th day of the week, I show you the weak
are protecting the strong,
They are singing ancient songs
of freedom, surrender and mysticism
And you are praying naked, eyes open.
You see the strong broken, bleary-eyed
Ignorant and half-comatose.
Fractured toes, walking on their knees.
Not weak enough yet to stop
To stop, drop and roll.
Have you been through the fire?
Have you been through the fire?
Have you been through the fire?

The constitutional right to free speech does not allow one to yell FIRE! in a crowded poetry slam.
So spit fire!
And tell me what would you do if someone started a fire inside of you,
inside the cathedral behind your ribs.

From cribs to bibs, breast milk to baby food.
I don't mean to be rude.
I don't want to get sued.
I just want to be
with you
Praying naked, eyes open
hoping to be in a poetical, mystical, hypnotical state.
So why don't you just
kiss me and hallucinate.