Poetry Slam

Sunday, October 2nd, 2011 @ 1:41 pm

, , , , , , , , , , , ,

Well, as some of you know, I’ve written poetry for some time now, including at an open mic last year, to a wonderful audience response.  This year, the monthly events are starting up again, with the first about two weeks ago.  Only this time, I entered in the poetry slam competition portion after the open mic.  Here are my 3 entries…

The videos get pretty quiet sometimes, so I’ve included the transcripts of each poem.  Just scroll down from each video to read along.

Cold from Blake Johnson on Vimeo.


I am cold.
I’m running toward the things I’ve been told
are good,
desperately wanting to be brought into a fold
when I should
be building my own,
but remember the graces I’ve known
means I need to be bold,
I need to let go of the days I hold
so carefully crafted with scheduled precision
losing all notion of feeling or vision,
trumping the regularity of a nine-to-five
and keeping me from feeling like I’m alive.
…but FIRE!
and I lose all restraint;
I spring into action like a saint:
I know my mission, I will not give in
I will not falter,
not be slowed by the halter of inhibition
or judge by the amount of my nutrition;
my intuition has always guided me
and so since when was it OK to say to that sweet side of me that
“no!” “I don’t trust you.” “I’m too scared.”
That’s not fair.
So I come to these nights,
to watch the linguistic firefights;
to gaze in awe at the mouths of people
and drift into wonder amongst words never feeble
that light up my weeks like the sun,
and I wonder, “have I won?”
Down the rays beat,
spreading their thick heat
across the glinting transparent cube encasing my rusty heart.
I am cold.
But slowly,
with dedication,
I find that I am melting.

Life Alive from Blake Johnson on Vimeo.


Life Alive!
this is what I always wanted!
The last few years have been nothing but haunted,
shrouded and black like the son of a ravaged alley cat,
missing the old
and wishing the new
would simply fold and there’d be something, someone, you.
All I ever wanted was you,
and you, and you, and you,
and to share the love
and to do what I dream of
and to laugh and to hug and to feel
and to know at the end of the day that
So I will ROCK OUT like there is no tomorrow,
I will think with my heart and go with the flow,
and remind myself that every moment is a window,
and that I just need to JUMP!
Standing up here is terrifying,
sending chills down my spine
and freezing my mind
but I will ROCK THE FUCK OUT of my time
until, old and wrinkly, there’s nothing left to do but unwind,
and know that after all the time I strived,
I finally managed to live some bit of life alive.

Fuck you from Blake Johnson on Vimeo.


Fuck you.
For loving everything.
For trying anything.
For believing the world was good,
that all is saved by love and brotherhood.
Fuck you.
For dreaming,
for looking in the mirror and believing,
for knowing that every moment you’re alive
only leads to growing and contentedness in knowing that you tried.
Fuck you for sleeping at night;
for knowing that no matter what life would turn out alright.
For being loved by everyone
and believing a hug could silence a gun.
Fuck you for caring,
for daring to go out alone, with no map and no call for help and coming home,
laden with treasures,
and a smile betraying inner joy beyond measure.
Fuck your inner joy,
you as a little boy
when everything was possible and you would make it so,
from the self-taught fight choreography to the lightsaber glow.
Fuck your boundless imagination,
when your vault of ideas required mental pagination,
when movies and writing were the keys to the world and you would always, every time, without a doubt,
get the girl.
Fuck you for making me doubt everything,
fuck you for making me cry when I sing,
for your limitless words,
for your ability to herd every emotion
into a notion
set in motion by some simple phrase.
Since when was your life’s purpose just an adolescent phase?
Fuck you for becoming so afraid.
Fuck you for being controlled,
fuck you for getting so old,
and fuck you for still thinking that age has anything to do with anything.
Fuck you for letting this depression happen to you.
Fuck that ex of yours for wrapping it ’round you.
Fuck you for keeping it there,
and letting it take this long to tear.
Now… rip it off.

Thanks for checking this stuff out.  It’s usually more personal and stress-relieving, more directly reflective of my life than my other works, so it’s cool to have a place to get that out.  Hope you liked it, there’s definitely more on the way at some point.  The open mics/poetry slams will go on all year…


Thoughts on the stuff you read? You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

Leave a Reply