This is the official blog of Northern Arizona slam poet Christopher Fox Graham. Begun in 2002, and transferred to blogspot in 2006, FoxTheBlog has recorded more than 670,000 hits since 2009. This blog cover's Graham's poetry, the Arizona poetry slam community and offers tips for slam poets from sources around the Internet. Read CFG's full biography here. Looking for just that one poem? You know the one ... click here to find it.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

"Time Bomb," by Maple Dewleaf

"Time Bomb," by Maple Dewleaf, first round poem in the Sedona Poetry Slam on Saturday, July 30, 2011.

"Time Bomb"
by Maple Dewleaf
from the 2011 chapbook "Any Given Sandbox"

My tic Brain tic Feels tic like a time bomb with little torture legs crawling towards gallons of fresh-spilled gasoline Bang!
We’re spreading what’s titled madness across the school children of my hometown.
Just in case you didn’t know you’ve got the strength.
If you’re willing to speak, think, move and live how you wanna grow. Live written on a billboard along the highway of our every day after day, asking: are you living?
Is your heartbeat-quick-smooth-dive-breath channeling the universe into its seismographic deep swell location of everywhere with time?
Are you looking at where you are today?
Or watching for tomorrow?
Letting the little suffering drive sorrow through you like a javelin through the chest.
Are you listening?
You step-move-ears-cock, I see the headlights but you must be sleeping at the wheel.
The neighbors of your brain asking; Do you feel?
Is it magic when everything explodes?
A blood-filled vinyl pulse skips softly in the back of the room,
They will be getting here soon.
We’re all just a hand reaching slowly for the moon.
But we have been trained to not chase what we truly strain.
The sound of popcorn is synonymous with the American brain.
If you want something done, best do it yourself.
But if you wanna stop class-control stop chasing wealth.
So I’ll season the pot, straight stir the stew.
It’s easy, my friends, to see from your own point of view.
But it can’t hurt to climb to new heights.
I’m not talking about a mental vacation to see the sights.
You must elevate your goals,
Like bob said: satisfy your souls before you’re controlled by your impulsive minds.
We know someday the planets will align, the best thing to remember is to follow the signs.
What your gut can’t decipher you can figure with your mind.
But the best place to listen if you can still hear enough to start is to listen to your heart.
Grab hold of your entire being. Only you know what you need.
Envision your purpose in life as a seed.
The whole world is your canvas of soil.
Wouldn’t you think the best place to grow is where less seeds are showing?
Let the others see their seeds are still worth sowing.
And not just ride the easy train and grow into the rows man wants you too.
Grow your soul like Virginia creeper and never stop for a thing,
Say what you’ve got to in the faces of those who can take it the least.
Thrust your verbal sword through the belly of the beast.
And do it with a smile,
You only get one shot, friends, better make it worth while.

Copyright 2011 © Maple Dewleaf Nic Griffin

Maple Dewleaf
Photo courtesy of Tara Graeber 
Maple Dewleaf
Born of the smoggy heart of Texas the youngest brother of five to a single mother, Maple Dewleaf was brought into this world a free spirit. As a child he would spend most of his time barefoot and in the forests of Northern Arizona. To this day Huckleberry Finn remains his biggest hero.

He became a significant member of Flagstaff’s poetry slam at the age of 16 while experiencing a slight case of house arrest fever. Having first hitched a ride at the age of 13, swears to this day the best way to catch a ride is to look very undetermined but still focused on something just over the horizon of view.

Dewleaf has worked as a grocery bagger, fence painter, fast-food cook, fry-cook, door installer, the wise hippie janitor of a truck stop, and various street side attractions including musician with classically trained vocals, alleyway poet, psychedelic amusement and $5 dare-taker extraordinaire.

At the ripe old age of almost 20 years, he was given the greatest gift he ever received: Wildflower Clementine, his beautiful daughter. Most days Maple can be found meditating with his gorgeous wife, whom he would crawl hands and knees through barrel cactuses for: Patches Dewleaf and little baby Wildflower, in the hidden woods of Anywhere, America.

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