"Llenguatge Espinal" by Christopher Fox Graham

"Llenguatge Espinal"

by Christopher Fox Graham

Dóna'm un tatuatge

més profund que la pell

sobre els ossos de la columna vertebral

a la superfície de totes les vèrtebres

en totes les llengües humanes

tatuar la seva paraula per 

"poesia"

perquè cap llengua ja no se senti estrangera;

perquè cada veu humana

pot dir una paraula en mi

deixem l'àrab i l'hebreu

seure un al costat de l'altre sense tirar pedres

deixar que els caràcters cantonesos i hindis

enllaçar les mans per subjectar el suahili i els hutus en una hamaca

que el basc i el zulu finalment toquin els llavis vietnamites

mentre Navajo recolza el cap sobre l'espatlla del malai

Parlem sis mil llengües

Però aguantaré el dolor i el temps

de manera que cap veu humana no em pot parlar

sense sentir-se

fins a l'os

deixar síl·labes africanes

compartir espai amb les articulacions europees,

Morfemes asiàtics,

i pronunciacions aborígens,

alinear-los i gravar-los

com un codi de barres orgànic escrit en Braille

llegible pels cucs que un dia em tornaran a convertir

a la religió de la pols i la cendra

que vam creure en una vegada

Davant d'aquest culte de carn i ossos

ens va treure de fang

per interpretar personatges breus sota la pluja

Que tastin el sabor de les nostres paraules

que consumeixin poesia

i tornar-lo a terra

Així la terra pot sentir el pes de les nostres paraules

i no ens oblidis

quan ens extingim

com les espècies que ens precedeixen

Talla l'última paraula

En codi Morse

a la base de la meva columna vertebral

perquè pugui escoltar el ritme de la paraula

als malucs quan dormo

.--. --- . - .-. -.--

Deixeu que els punts i els guions s'estenguin

a través de tots els meus ossos en un virus de comprensió

Per tant, si perdo la veu

Encara puc dir una paraula

tocant-me els dits,

colpejar un tambor

o canviant el ritme dels batecs del meu cor

per parlar amb la meva sang

imaginar

Sis mil llengües

jugant-me la columna vertebral

en harmonia a 33 veus

fent una simfonia meva

amb una melodia que reverbera

fins a la medul·la espinal

ressonant cada vegada més fort al túnel

amplificant la música composta

fins a la base del meu cervell

on detona

i ressona dins del meu crani

Rebot

Sis mil noves expressions

per la mateixa paraula

amb les veus de sis mil milions de cantants

en els meus sis bilions de pensaments

fins que no pugui prendre més el caos

i la seva cançó explota dels meus llavis

oferint al món

Un moment de comprensió sincronitzada

d'una cançó

d'una veu

d'un home

per un instant

abans que el món parpellegi

perd el focus

i escolta l'eco

s'esvaeixen lentament

però recorda 

El so 

de la nostra poesia

"Asụsụ Ọkpụkpụ" by Christopher Fox Graham

"Asụsụ Ọkpụkpụ"

by Christopher Fox Graham

Nye m egbugbu

miri karịa anụ ahụ

n'ọkpụkpụ nke ọkpụkpụ azụ m

n'elu nke ọ bụla vertebrae

n'asụsụ ọ bụla mmadụ

egbugbu okwu ha

"abụ"

nke mere na ọ dịghị asụsụ na-eche mba ọzọ;

nke mere na onye ọ bụla olu mmadụ

nwere ike ikwu okwu n'ime m

ka Arabic na Hibru

nọdu n'akuku na-atughi okwute

hapụ agwa Cantonese na Hindi

jikọọ aka iji jide Swahili na Hutu n'ihe mgbochi

ka Basque na Zulu mechaa metụ egbugbere ọnụ Vietnamese aka

ebe Navajo dabere n'isi ya n'ubu Malay

anyị na-asụ puku asụsụ isii

mana m ga-atachi obi mgbu na oge

ya mere ọ dịghị olu mmadụ nwere ike ịgwa m okwu

na-enweghị mmetụta

gbadaa ọkpụkpụ

ka African syllable

na-ekekọrịta oghere na nkọwa ndị Europe,

Eshia morphemes,

na ịkpọ okwu ndị Aborigine,

kpọkọta ha n'ahịrị ma kanye ha ihe

dị ka akara akara organic e dere na Braille

agụrụ site na ikpuru ga-otu ụbọchị tọghata m azụ

nye okpukpe uzuzu na ntu

na anyị kwenyere n'otu oge

tupu òtù nzuzo a nke anụ ahụ na ọbara

kpọpụtara anyị n’ụrọ

ịkpọ obere mkpụrụedemede na mmiri ozuzo

ka ha detụ ụtọ okwu anyị

ka ha ripia uri

ma nyeghachi ya ala

ka ụwa wee nwee ike ịnụ ibu okwu anyị

echefukwala anyị

mgbe anyị na-ekpochapụ onwe anyị

dị ka ụdị dị n'ihu anyị

kpụta okwu ikpeazụ

na morse koodu

n'okpuru ọkpụkpụ azụ m

ka m wee nụ rhythm nke okwu ahụ

n'úkwù m mgbe m na-arahụ ụra

.--. --- . - .- . -.--

ka ntụpọ na ọsịsa gbasaa

gafee ọkpụkpụ m niile na nje nke nghọta

ya mere ọ bụrụ na m tufuo olu m

M ka nwere ike ikwu otu okwu

site na ịpị mkpịsị aka m,

na-akụ ịgbà

ma ọ bụ na-agbanwe ọrịre nke nku obi m

iji ọbara m kwuo okwu

chee echiche

puku asụsụ isii

na-egwu ọkpụkpụ azụ m

na nkwekọrịta akụkụ 33

na-eme m egwu egwu

jiri olu ụtọ na-atụgharị

elu ọgidigi azụ m

na-eme ka ụda na-ada ụda na ọwara ahụ

na-amụba egwu na-emekọ ihe

ruo n'isi ụbụrụ m

ebe ọ na-agbawa

ma na-atụgharị n'ime okpokoro isi m

ricocheting

puku isii ọhụrụ okwu

maka otu okwu

jiri olu ijeri isii na-abụ abụ

n'ime echiche ijeri isii m

ruo mgbe m nwere ike ghara ọzọ ọgbaghara

Abù-ha nēsi kwa n'eb͕ub͕ere-ọnum puta

àjà ụwa

oge nghọta mmekọrịta

nke otu egwu

nke otu olu

nke otu nwoke

maka otu ntabi anya

tupu ụwa emebie

na-atụfu uche

na-ege ntị n'ikuku

jiri nwayọọ nwayọọ pụọ

ma na-echeta

ụda ahụ

nke uri anyi

"Spinal Language" by Christopher Fox Graham

"Spinal Language"

by Christopher Fox Graham

give me a tattoo

deeper than skin

on the bones of my spine

onto the surface of every vertebrae

in every human tongue

tattoo their word for “poetry”

so that no language feels foreign anymore;

so that each human voice

can speak a word in me

let Arabic and Hebrew

sit side by side without throwing stones

let Cantonese and Hindi characters

link hands to hold Swahili and Hutu in a hammock

let Basque and Zulu finally touch lips Vietnamese

while Navajo rests its head on the shoulder of Malay

we speak six thousand tongues

but i’ll endure the pain and the time

so no human voice can speak to me

without being felt

down to the bone

let African syllables

share space with European articulations,

Asian morphemes,

and Aboriginal pronunciations,

line them up and engrave them

like an organic barcode written in Braille

readable by the worms that will one day convert me back

to the religion of dust and ash

that we believed in once

before this cult of flesh and blood

brought us out from clay

to play brief characters in the rain

let them taste the flavor of our words

let them consume poetry

and give it back to the soil

so the earth can feel the weight of our words

and not forget us

when we extinct ourselves

like the species before us

carve the last word

in morse code

at the base of my spine

so that I can hear the rhythm of the word

in my hips when i sleep

.--. --- . - .-. -.--

let dots and dashes spread

across all my bones in a virus of comprehension

so if i lose my voice

I can still speak a word

by tapping my fingers,

pounding a drum

or changing the rhythm of my heartbeat

to speak with my blood

imagine

six thousand tongues

playing my spine

in 33-part harmony

making a symphony of me

with a melody that reverberates

up my spinal cord

echoing louder and louder in the tunnel

amplifying the compounding music

all the way to the base of my brain

where it detonates

and resonates inside my skull

ricocheting

six thousand new expressions

for the same word

with the voices of six billion singers

into my six trillion thoughts

until I can take no more chaos

and their song explodes from my lips

offering the world

a moment of synchronized understanding

of one song

of one voice

of one man

for one instant

before the world blinks

loses focus

and listens to the echo

slowly fade away

but remembers 

the sound 

of our poetry

"रीढ़ की हड्डी की भाषा" by Christopher Fox Graham

गंगा नदी पर वाराणसी

"रीढ़ की हड्डी की भाषा" 

by Christopher Fox Graham

मुझे एक टैटू दे दो

त्वचा से भी गहरा

मेरी रीढ़ की हड्डी पर

हर कशेरुका की सतह पर

हर इंसान की जुबान में

"कविता" के लिए अपने शब्द टैटू

ताकि कोई भी भाषा अब विदेशी महसूस न हो;

ताकि प्रत्येक मानव आवाज

मैं एक शब्द बोल सकता हूँ

अरबी और हिब्रू

बिना पत्थर फेंके साथ बैठें

कैंटोनीज़ और हिंदी पात्रों को अनुमति दें

स्वाहिली और हुतु को झूला में पकड़ने के लिए हाथ जोड़ें

बास्क और ज़ुलु को आखिरकार वियतनामी होंठ छूने दें

जबकि नवाजो मलय के कंधे पर अपना सिर टिकाए हुए है

हम छह हजार भाषाएं बोलते हैं

लेकिन मैं दर्द और समय को सहन करूंगा

कोई भी मानव आवाज मुझसे बात नहीं कर सकती है।

महसूस किए बिना

हड्डी के नीचे

अफ्रीकी शब्दांशों को अनुमति दें

यूरोपीय अभिव्यक्ति के साथ स्थान साझा करें,

एशियाई मॉर्फेम,

और आदिवासी उच्चारण,

उन्हें पंक्तिबद्ध करें और उन्हें उकेरें

जैसे ब्रेल में लिखा एक कार्बनिक बारकोड

कीड़े द्वारा पठनीय जो एक दिन मुझे वापस बदल देगा

धूल और राख के धर्म के लिए

जिस पर हमने एक बार विश्वास किया था

मांस और रक्त के इस पंथ से पहले

हमें मिट्टी से बाहर लाया

बारिश में संक्षिप्त किरदार निभाना

उन्हें हमारे शब्दों के स्वाद का स्वाद लेने दें

उन्हें कविता का उपभोग करने दें

और इसे मिट्टी में वापस दे दें

ताकि पृथ्वी हमारे शब्दों के वजन को महसूस कर सके

और हमें मत भूलना

जब हम खुद को विलुप्त करते हैं

जैसे हमारे सामने की प्रजातियां

अंतिम शब्द गढ़ें

मोर्स कोड में

मेरी रीढ़ की हड्डी के आधार पर

ताकि मैं शब्द की लय सुन सकूं

जब मैं सोता हूं तो मेरे कूल्हों में

.--. --- . - .-. -.--

डॉट्स और डैश को फैलने दें

समझ के वायरस में मेरी सभी हड्डियों के पार

अगर मैं अपनी आवाज खो दूं

मैं अभी भी एक शब्द बोल सकता हूं

मेरी उंगलियों को थपथपाकर,

एक ड्रम बजाना

या मेरे दिल की धड़कन की लय को बदलना

मेरे खून से बोलना

कल्पना करना

छह हजार जीभ

मेरी रीढ़ की हड्डी खेलना

33-भाग सद्भाव में

मेरी सिम्फनी बनाना

एक राग के साथ जो गूंजता है

मेरी रीढ़ की हड्डी को ऊपर उठाएं

सुरंग में जोर से और जोर से गूंज रहा है

कंपाउंडिंग संगीत को बढ़ाना

मेरे मस्तिष्क के आधार तक सभी रास्ते

जहां विस्फोट होता है

और मेरी खोपड़ी के अंदर गूंजता है

रिकोचेटिंग

छह हजार नए भाव

एक ही शब्द के लिए

छह अरब गायकों की आवाज के साथ

मेरे छह ट्रिलियन विचारों में

जब तक मैं और अधिक अराजकता नहीं ले सकता

और उनका गीत मेरे होंठों से फट जाता है

दुनिया को पेशकश

सिंक्रनाइज़ समझ का एक क्षण

एक गीत

एक आवाज

एक आदमी का

एक पल के लिए

इससे पहले कि दुनिया पलकें झपकाए

फोकस खो देता है

और गूंज सुनता है

धीरे-धीरे दूर हो जाओ

लेकिन याद है 

ध्वनि 

हमारी कविता

"Ridh ki haddi ki bhasha"

by Christopher Fox Graham

mujhe ek tattoo de do

tvacha se bhi gehra

meri ridh ki haddi par

har kasheruka ki satah par

har insaan ki jubaan mein

"kavita" ke liye apne shabd tattoo

taki koi bhi bhasha ab videshi mehsus na ho;

taaki pratyek manav avaz

main ek shabd bol sakta hoon

arabi aur hebrew

bina patthar pence sath baithen

cantonese aur hindi patron ko anumati den

swahili aur hutu ko jhula mein pakadne ke liye haath joden

bask aur zulu ko akhirkar vietnamese honthh chhune den

jabaki navajo malay ke kandhe par apna sir tikaye hue hai

hum chhah hazar bhashaen bolate hain

lekin main dard aur samay ko sahan karunga

koi bhi manav aavaj mujhse baat nahi kar sakti hai

mehsus kiye bina

haddi ke niche

african shabdanshon ko anumati den

europea abhivyakti ke saath sthaan saajha karen,

asian morphem,

aur adivasi uchcharan,

unhen panktibaddh karen aur unhen ukeren

jaise braille mein likha ek carbonic barcode

kide dwara pathania jo ek din mujhe vapas badal dega

dhool aur rakh ke dharm ke liye

jis par hamne ek baar vishvas kiya tha

maans aur rakt ke is panth se pehle

hamein mitti se bahar laya

barish mein sankshipt kirdar nibhana

unhen hamare shabdon ke svad ka swad lene den

unhen kavita ka upabhog karane den

aur ise mitti mein vapas de den

taki prithvi hamare shabdon ke vajan ko mehsus kar sake

aur hamein mat bhoolna

jab hum khud ko vilupt karte hain

jaise hamare samne ki prajatiyan

antim shabd gadhen

morse code mein

meri ridh ki haddi ke aadhar par

taki main shabd ki lay sun sakun

jab main sota hoon to mere koolhon mein

.--. --- . - .-. -.--

dots or dash ko failane den

samajh ke virus mein meri sabhi haddiyon ke par

agar main apni aavaj kho doon

main abhi bhi ek shabd bol sakta hoon

meri ungaliyon ko thapathapakar,

ek drum bajana

ya mere dil ki dhadkan ki lay ko badalna

mere khoon se bolna

kalpana karana

chhah hazar jibh

meri ridh ki haddi khelna

33-bhag sadbhav mein

meri symphony banana

ek raag ke saath jo gunjata hai

meri ridh ki haddi ko ooper uthaein

surang mein jor se aur jor se gunj raha hai

compounding sangeet ko badhana

mere mastishk ke adhar tak sabhi raaste

jahan visfot hota hai

aur meri khopdi ke andar gunjata hai

ricochetting

chhah hazar naye bhav

ek hi shabd ke liye

chhah arab gayakon ki avaj ke sath

mere chhah trillion vicharon mein

jab tak main aur adhik arajakata nahi le sakta

aur unaka geet mere honthon se fat jata hai

duniya ko peshkash

synchronize samajh ka ek kshan

ek geet

ek aavaj

ek aadmi ka

ek pal ke liye

isase pahale ki duniya palken jhapkaye

focus kho deta hai

aur goonj sunata hai

dhire-dhire door ho jao

lekin yaad hai

dhvani

hamari kavita

"Omurga Dili" by Christopher Fox Graham

"Omurga Dili"

by Christopher Fox Graham

bana bir dövme ver

deriden daha derin

omurgamın kemikleri üzerinde

her omurun yüzeyine

her insan dilinde

"şiir" için kelimelerini dövmek

böylece hiçbir dil artık yabancı hissetmesin;

böylece her insan sesi

içimde bir kelime konuşabilir

Arapça ve İbranice olsun

taş atmadan yan yana oturmak

Kantonca ve Hintçe karakterlere izin verin

Swahili ve Hutu'yu bir hamakta tutmak için ellerini bağlayın

Bask ve Zulu'nun nihayet Vietnamca dudaklara dokunmasına izin verin

Navajo ise başını Malay'ın omzuna dayamış

altı bin dil konuşuyoruz

Ama acıya ve zamana katlanacağım

bu yüzden hiçbir insan sesi benimle konuşamaz

hissedilmeden

kemiğe kadar

Afrika hecelerine izin verin

Avrupa eklemlenmeleriyle alanı paylaşmak,

Asya morfemleri,

ve Aborjin telaffuzları,

onları sıraya koyun ve kazıyın

Braille alfabesiyle yazılmış organik bir barkod gibi

Bir gün beni geri dönüştürecek solucanlar tarafından okunabilir

toz ve kül dinine

bir zamanlar inandığımız şey

Bu et ve kan kültünden önce

bizi kilden çıkardı

yağmurda kısa karakterler oynamak için

sözlerimizin lezzetini tatsınlar

şiir tüketsinler

ve toprağa geri ver

böylece dünya sözlerimizin ağırlığını hissedebilir

ve bizi unutma

kendimizi yok ettiğimizde

bizden önceki türler gibi

Son sözü söyle

Mors alfabesinde

omurgamın dibinde

böylece kelimenin ritmini duyabiliyorum

uyurken kalçalarımda

.--. --- . - .-. -.--

Noktaların ve tirelerin yayılmasına izin verin

tüm kemiklerimde bir kavrayış virüsü içinde

Yani eğer sesimi kaybedersem

Hala bir kelime konuşabiliyorum

parmaklarıma dokunarak,

bir davula vurmak

ya da kalp atışımın ritmini değiştirmek

kanımla konuşmak için

Hayal

altı bin dil

omurgamı oynamak

33 parçalı armonide

benim senfonimi yapmak

yankılanan bir melodi ile

omuriliğimi yukarı kaldır

tünelde daha yüksek sesle yankılanıyor

bileşik müziğin güçlendirilmesi

beynimin tabanına kadar

patladığı yer

ve kafatasımın içinde rezonansa giriyor

Zıplama

altı bin yeni ifade

aynı kelime için

altı milyar şarkıcının sesiyle

altı trilyon düşünceme

ta ki daha fazla kaosa dayanamayana kadar

Ve onların şarkısı dudaklarımdan patlıyor

dünyaya sunmak

senkronize bir anlayış anı

bir şarkının

tek bir sesin

bir adamın

bir an için

Dünya yanıp sönmeden önce

odağını kaybeder

ve yankıyı dinler

yavaşça kaybolur

ama hatırlar 

ses 

şiirlerimizin

"脊髓語言" by Christopher Fox Graham

香港特別行政區

"脊髓語言" 

by Christopher Fox Graham

畀我紋身

比皮膚更深

在我的脊椎上

到每個椎骨嘅表面

用每個人嘅語言

紋身他們的話 

《詩歌》

這樣一來，任何語言都不再陌生；

讓每個人的聲音

可以對我說一句話

讓阿拉伯語和希伯來語

並排坐著不扔石頭

讓粵語和印地語字符

手挽著吊床裡的斯瓦希里語和胡圖語

讓巴斯克人和祖魯人終於接觸到越南人的嘴唇

而納瓦霍人則把頭靠在馬來人的肩膀上

我們說六千種語言

但我會忍受痛苦和時間

所以沒有人的聲音可以跟我說話

沒有被感覺到

深入骨髓

讓非洲音節

與歐洲關節共享空間，

亞洲語素，

和原住民發音，

將它們排成一行並雕刻它們

就像用盲文書寫的有機條形碼

蠕蟲可讀，總有一天會讓我變回原樣

塵土和灰燼的宗教

我們曾經相信

在這個血肉之軀的崇拜面前

把我們從粘土中帶出來

在雨中扮演簡短的角色

讓他們嚐嚐我們文字的味道

讓他們消費詩歌

把它還給土壤

這樣地球就能感受到我們話語的分量

不要忘記我們

當我們自己滅絕

就像我們面前的物種

刻下硬道理

用摩爾斯電碼

在我的脊椎底部

好讓我能聽到這個詞的節奏

在我睡覺的時候在我的臀部

.--. --- 。 -.-. -.--

讓點和破散開

在理解的病毒中穿過我所有的骨頭

所以如果我失聲

我還能說一句話

通過輕敲我的手指，

敲鼓

或者改變我心跳的節奏

用我的血說話

想像

六千種語言

玩我的脊椎

33聲部和聲

為我譜寫交響曲

用迴盪的旋律

我的脊髓

在隧道裡迴聲越來越大

放大復合音樂

一直到我大腦的底部

它在哪裡引爆

在我的頭骨內產生共鳴

彈跳

六千個新表達

為了同一個詞

60億歌手的聲音

進入我的六萬億思想

直到我再也無法忍受混亂

他們的歌聲從我的唇間迸發出來

提供世界

同步理解的時刻

一首歌的

一個聲音

一個人的

一瞬間

在世界眨眼之前

失去焦點

並聆聽迴聲

慢慢消失

但記得

聲音

我們的詩歌

Rudy Francisco, "To The Girl Who Works At Starbucks"

Rudy Francisco performing "To The Girl Who Works At Starbucks" at Write About Now Poetry. Francisco is one of the most recognizable names in Spoken Word Poetry. 

 

He was born, raised and still resides in San Diego, California. At the age of 21, Rudy completed his B.A in Psychology and decided to continue his education by pursuing a M.A in Organizational Studies. As an artist, Rudy Francisco is an amalgamation of social critique, introspection, honesty and humor. 

He uses personal narratives to discuss the politics of race, class, gender and religion while simultaneously pinpointing and reinforcing the interconnected nature of human existence. Francisco seeks to create work that promotes healthy dialogue, discourse and social change. Furthermore, Rudy has made conscious efforts to cultivate young poets and expose the youth to the genre of Spoken Word Poetry via coaching, workshops and performances at preparatory schools and community centers. Rudy has also received admiration from institutions of higher education. 

He has conducted guest lectures and performances at countless colleges and universities across the nation. Francisco has shared stages with prominent artists such as Gladys Knight, Jordin Sparks, Musiq Soul Child, and Jill Scott. He is also the co-host of the largest poetry venue in San Diego, competes in domestic and international poetry slam competitions and had the honor of being nominated for an NAACP Image Award. 

Ultimately, Rudy's goal is to continue to assist others in harnessing their creativity while cultivating his own. Rudy Francisco is the 2009 National Underground Poetry Slam Champion, 2010 Individual World Poetry Slam Champion and appeared on TV One’s “Verses and Flow”

"Lumberjacking is the World's Most Dangerous Profession" ... for 2023

 

lumberjacking is the world’s most dangerous profession
falling trees and limbs slay lumberjacks at a rate
30 times higher than average
breaking bones a dozen times daily

these arms are not built to fell trees
these hands not built to wield axes or chainsaws
I am no lumberjack
but I know the sound of a tree falling in a forest
we do not know how many died
to build this stage
to erect these room
to raise this roof

poetry is the world’s most dangerous art form
suicide and addiction and overdose slay poets
at a rate not measured by the Bureau of Statistics
because we do not list "poet" as a profession
no matter how deep is in our bones

but I am a poet

these arms were built to climb trees
these hands to wield pen and microphone
the sound of a poet falling in a forest
sounds so much like a tree
even the Earth can't tell the difference
we do not know how many died
to raise this roof
to erect these room
to build this stage

I know no dead lumberjacks
but if I were to inscribe the names of all the dead poets
this body would be inkwell:

one drowned in the heat of lonely city

one swallowing pills to stay afloat

one whose rage
could make even ghosts bleed

one who heard his son cry
but only once

one who found refuge in a bottle

until his liver took his heart in the divorce

one who shotgunned the worst of him
across pages of the best of him

one who swam with men in grey suits
but died alone in the desert

one with the Will of a Haymaker
now Basquiating himself
with a heroin needle
refusing to hear us say 

"stop"

one who swam into the river
never intending to reach the far shore

one who relived his golden age
overdosing on methadone

one who named his son Oren
and told us to look it up
wrote that one day his son would fall,
but a poet would there to catch him

and another poet

and another

and another

I know no lumberjacks
but I know they must weep like I do
whenever these names come flooding back

we do not build furniture or homes or monuments or empires
tangibility that can exist without the living
we only leave behind our words
which yellow and age over time
only existing if we read or speak them
but there are too many words now
and not enough time
and I'm beginning to forget
and there's no one here to help

lumberjacks take refuge in the woods
work beneath the leaves
take revenge on the limbs and trees
that slew their brothers
but we poets have nowhere to go
but back to these pages
to these microphones
to these slam stages
where we pour out our rage
it's why we're always shouting
a Dead Poets Society
is trapped in our throats

I'm not even supposed to be here
there's too much sin,
sloth
and pride
to be a Speaker of the Dead
to bear this burden of survivor
I am the Devil's bad luck
and the Grim Reaper's off days

I am tired of burying our dead
of toasting our fallen as conquering heroes
of retelling all the same old stories
to those old poets who can remember
before the needle drained
the pills slowed
the bullet shattered
the depression became too much to bear

I am tired of telling new young poets
about who came before
or how their newest stanza
can make me weep
because it sounds so much like someone
they can read but never meet
they don't need this added weight
while learning to fly
I am tired of telling still-living poets
with one foot in the graveyard
and one hand on a needle
that I don't deserve to outlive them

one poet named his son “Pine Tree” in Hebrew
wrote that one day he would fall
I am no lumberjack
but I will ready to catch him
because a poet said to


I can build nothing
but this
this is a promise I can keep

Alex Copeland & Jensen McRae "Trumpets"

 

Alex Copeland and Jensen McRae, performing at the 2015 Get Lit Classic Slam in Los Angeles

Iain Kohn, Pathum Madigapola & Khamal Iwuanyanwu "Wearing Different Faces"

Iain Kohn, Pathum Madigapola & Khamal Iwuanyanwu, performing at the 2015 Get Lit Classic Slam in Los Angele

Seth Walker features at the final Sedona Poetry Slam of the 2022-23 season

The Sedona Poetry Slam has reached the final slam of the season before the summer break Saturday, May 13. Performance poets will bring high-energy, competitive spoken word to the Mary D. Fisher Theatre starting at 7:30 p.m.

Seth Walker

Between rounds, one of the best known performance poets in the country will feature on the stage.

Seth Walker is a poet, playwright, songwriter, and musician born in Baton Rouge, La., raised in Texas and now living in Phoenix. His upbringing in the southern United States is reflected in his work, which often explores themes of love, loss and the human experience. For five years, he toured nonstop across the United States and Canada, performing at poetry venues almost every night.

Walker's poetry is known for its raw emotion and its ability to capture the beauty and complexity of everyday life. His work often incorporates elements of nature, and he has been praised for his ability to use the natural world as a metaphor for human emotion and experience.

Overall, Walker's poetry is a testament to the power of language and its ability to evoke deep emotions and connect people to one another. His work is a reminder that even in the midst of pain and hardship, there is still beauty and meaning to be found in the world.

The Slam

If you have told your friends you were going to attend a poetry slam this year, but haven't yet, this is your last chance to see what you've been anticipating.

A poetry slam is like a series of high-energy, three-minute one-person plays, judged by the audience. Anyone can sign up to compete in the slam for the $75 grand prize and $25 second-place prize. To compete in the slam, poets will need three original poems, each lasting no longer than three minutes.

No props, costumes nor musical accompaniment are permitted. The poets are judged Olympics-style by five members of the audience selected at random at the beginning of the slam.

Slam poetry is an art form that allows written page poets to share their work alongside theatrical performers, hip-hop artists and lyricists. Poets come from as far away as Phoenix, Tucson and Flagstaff, competing against adult poets from Sedona and Cottonwood, college poets from Northern Arizona University and youth poets from Sedona Red Rock High School.

All types of poetry are welcome on the stage, from street-wise hip-hop and narrative performance poems, to political rants and introspective confessionals. Any poem is a "slam" poem if performed in a competition. All poets get three minutes per round to entertain and inspire the audience with their creativity.

BlackBerry Peach

Also expected to compete is B-Jam, aka Ben Gardea, who was chosen last month by Sedona's judges to represent all of Arizona against more than 40 other top poets at the BlackBerryPeach National Slam Poetry Competition held June 21 to June 26, in Des Moines, Iowa, sponsored by the National Federation of State Poetry Societies and the Iowa Poetry Association. He is the Arizona State Poetry Society's official state representative.

Mary D. Fisher Theatre is located at 2030 W. SR 89A, Suite A-3, in West Sedona. Tickets are $12. For tickets, call 282-1177 or visit SedonaFilmFestival.org.

The Sedona Poetry Slam will return for its 15th season the fall.

The prize money is funded in part by a donation from Verde Valley poetry supporters Jeanne and Jim Freeland.

Email foxthepoet@yahoo.com to sign up early to compete or by the Friday before the slam or at the door the day of the slam. Poets who want to compete should purchase a ticket in case the roster is filled before they arrive.

For more information, visit sedonafilmfestival.com or foxthepoet.blogspot.com.

What is Poetry Slam?

Founded at the Green Mill Tavern in Chicago in 1984 by Marc Smith, poetry slam is a competitive artistic sport designed to get people who would otherwise never go to a poetry reading excited about the art form when it becomes a high-energy competition. Poetry slams are judged by five randomly chosen members of the audience who assign numerical value to individual poets' contents and performances.

Poetry slam has become an international artistic sport, with more than 100 major poetry slams in the United States, Canada, Australia and Western Europe. Slam poets have opened at the Winter Olympics, performed at the White House and at the United Nations General Assembly and were featured on "Russell Simmon's Def Poets" on HBO.

Sedona has sent four-poet teams to represent the city at the National Poetry Slam in Charlotte, N.C., Boston, Cambridge, Mass., Oakland, Calif., Decatur, Ga., Denver and Chicago.

Amina Iro and Hannah Halpern, "The Way the World Sees Us"

Amina Iro and Hannah Halpern, from DC's Youth Slam Poetry Team, compete at the 2014 Common Ground Awards The Common Ground Awards are produced by Search for Common Ground, an international peacebuilding organization working to end violent conflict in 35 countries around the world,

Sierra DeMulder, "Today Means Amen"

Sierra DeMulder is an internationally-recognized poet, educator, and podcast host. She is a two-time National Poetry Slam champion, a five-time published author (The Bones Below, New Shoes on a Dead Horse, We Slept Here, Today Means Amen, and Ephemera forthcoming in June 2023), and the co-host of Just Break Up, a globally popular advice podcast that has been downloaded more than 4 million times. Sierra lives in upstate New York with her wife and daughter.

"A Finger, Two Dots Then Me," the short film of Derrick C. Brown's poem

Derrick C. Brown is a novelist, comedian, poet, and storyteller. He is the winner of the 2013 Texas Book of The Year award for Poetry. He is a former paratrooper for the 82nd Airborne. He is the owner and president of Write Bloody Publishing, which Forbes and Filter Magazine call “…one of the best independent poetry presses in the country.” He is the author of eight books of poetry and four children’s books. The New York Times calls his work “…a rekindling of faith in the weird, hilarious, shocking, beautiful power of words.” He lives in Los Angeles. Derick Brown kicks it at the NORAZ Poetry Grand Slam in April 2006

Solli Raphael, "We breathe in, we breathe out."

Solli Raphael from Coffs Harbour in New South Wales delivers an encore performance at the Australian Poetry Slam national final to a full house at the Sydney Opera House, becoming the competition's youngest winner in 2017

Remembering Danny Solis

Danny Solis was my first slam hero, a powerhouse of the Southwestern slam scenes. His poetry was awesome to behold. 

We bouted numerous times at Southwest Shootout, he sincerely complimented how I managed NPS bouts in Chicago and we slammed beers and spit poetry over his gloriously oversized bonfires in Albuquerque. Danny's group poems were legendary and he made ABQ the model for how to bring group poems to NPS. 

Slam poets nationally are sharing their stories of fights and fallouts, forgivenesses and friendships with Danny. He was tough and tough to love for many, stubborn and bold, instumental, influencial and unforgettable. If Danny was in the room, everyone knew it. 

At the National Poetry Slam in Seattle in 2001, I remember Danny Solis and Taylor Mali, two giants in slam and idols I had watched on DVDs before going to nationals, argue at the Slam Family meeting about a rule in the slam rulebook. There was a question whether a team had broken it or the spirit of the rule. Both were making good points in between other speakers. Then PSi President Mike Henry called on Bowerbird, who had his hand up for the longest time and was roughly between them along the back wall.

Bowerbird said, "I'm just happy to be here with all you poets." Danny and Taylor had the biggest laughs and it shattered the tension. I realized that even in disagreement, we slam poets argue because we want slam to be as fair as we can make it so everyone enjoys the stage.

One slammaster described to one of our rookies poets as half-Chicano, half-Klingon with his dreadlocks and bandana. He'd argue with you, slam with you and drink with you after.

We always had a good friendship. He always had a kind word in person or a sweet comment about my kids online. He enjoyed seeing me appear in ABQ or at NPS and I did him. Our slam scenes in Arizona and New Mexico have always been cultural and spiritual cousins; we were the same territory once after all. 

We modeled our budding Flagstaff Poetry Slam in 2001 on how he ran Albuquerque: full of support, respect and love for our poets, especially our newbies.

We are his echoes.

ROCHESTER — Danny Solis once wrote that “the body swims in the lake of the soul.”

Solis, a poet, artist, activist and father who helped marginalized and young artists find their voice died suddenly in his sleep Thursday [April 6].

Solis arrived in Rochester from Albuquerque, New Mexico, nearly 10 years ago to a snowstorm in May. He said in a 2016 interview it was the first time in his memory he didn’t go out for Cinco de Mayo.

Nonetheless, Solis remained in Rochester and shared his talent as a slam poet and his love of other creatives to encourage and amplify artists in his adopted community.

Solis was a champion slam poet, established an annual Day of the Dead celebration and received multiple awards for his contributions to the community including the 2020 Mayor’s Medal for artistic and cultural achievement.

His death while traveling to New York to speak and perform at a poetry event has shocked the local art community. However, artists who credit him with helping them find their voice, say his contributions will live on in the voices he helped amplify.

“Danny convened us into family, convened us into this rag-tag community of artists,” said Nicole Nfonoyim-Hara, an honored fiction author and writer who met Solis when she moved to Rochester about seven years ago.

“To watch him get youth to step into their own power was amazing,” Nfonoyim-Hara added. “He cultivated this safe, fertile ground particularly for marginalized youth.”

Nfonoyim-Hara took a writing workshop from Solis when she first moved to Rochester and immediately took to him, his writing and his advice, she said.

McKay Bram worked with Solis in curating events. His ability to perform poetry live paired with her art of improvised dance and artistic movement, she said.

“It was great to work with someone who had such faith in what I was doing because I don’t always have faith in what I’m doing,” Bram said.

Sometimes Solis’ words and music would inspire her movement which would in turn inspire him more.

“When we first talked, it felt like we’d known each other even though we’d just met,” Bram said.

That was a common reaction from people who met him, said Andrea Zoss, Solis’ ex-wife and mother of their son, Teagan.

“He was not afraid to talk to anyone,” Zoss said. “I can’t make my dad laugh, but Danny, this guy in a bandana dating his daughter, could make my dad laugh.

The two enjoyed spending time watching animals at the Albuquerque Zoo before they moved to Minnesota, she said.

It wasn’t in a salesman-like way, but an honest curiosity that drew Solis to other people, she added. Solis loved children and animals — especially dogs. It was a trait that took some getting used to.

“He had brilliant, nuanced thoughts about art, life and science but he would also point out, ‘Hey look at that doggo,’” she said. “Even if we were in deep conversation, if he saw a dog, he would interrupt and say, ‘Look, a dog.’”

Pointing out a dog would be about the only time Solis would appreciate being interrupted in a conversation, Zoss added.

That was just one side to a complex man, she added. Describing him is difficult, she said.

“It’s like showing you a grain of sand and saying this is a beach, you just have to imagine a lot more of these,” Zoss said.

A Go Fund Me has been set up to help with a memorial for Solis.

Khamal Iwuanyanwu, "Sepia"

Khamal Iwuanyanwu, performing at the 2015 Get Lit Classic Slam in Los Angeles, CA.

Button Poetry is committed to developing a coherent and effective system of production, distribution, promotion and fundraising for spoken word and performance poetry.

We seek to showcase the power and diversity of voices in our community. By encouraging and broadcasting the best and brightest performance poets of today, we hope to broaden poetry's audience, to expand its reach and develop a greater level of cultural appreciation for the art form.

Danny Sherrard performs in Flagstaff, 2007

Danny Sherrard wows the crowd at the Applesauce Teahouse in Flagstaff in November 2007

Born in Seattle, Washington on August 29, 1985, Sherrand he won the Individual National Poetry Slam competition in 2007, becoming the youngest competitor at that time to win such a title. In 2008 Sherrard won France's Poetry World Cup where he competed against national champions from 15 countries.

Sherrard was on the Seattle poetry slam teams in 2007 and 2008 and the 2009 HawaiiSlam team.

At the beginning of 2009 Danny Sherrard toured with the spoken word group The Spilljoy Ensemble composed of himself, Jon Sands, Shira Erlichman and Ken Arkind.

Sherrard's first book, "Cast Your Eyes like River Stones into the Exquisite Dark," was released in 2009 through Write Bloody Publishing.

Lydia Gates, "Changeling"

Lydia Gates represented the Flagstaff Poetry Slam as the Flagstaff Slam Champion at the All-Arizona Slam Championship in Maricopa. She also is the Slam Master for the Flagstaff Poetry Slam. Gates is a queer autistic performance poet and novelist who lives Flagstaff, Arizona with her wife Lucy and their three adorable feline monster children. She is the managing organizer of FlagSlam, a poetry slam in Northern Arizona that was established in 2000. Her poetry collections, "I Was an Empire" (2017), "She Dreams the Moon" (2018), and "Changeling" (2021) are available on Amazon. Gates also writes as Kirke Vincent.

"A Love Letter to Poets" by Jennifer Weston

Jennifer Weston performing "A Love Letter to Poets" at The Rebel Lounge in Phoenix, on Feb. 16, 2022.

Ghost Poetry Show is committed to creating a community of writers from the greater Phoenix area (and beyond) to share their work on stage. We take pride in having poets that have never performed their work in front of anyone, all the way up to poets that have competed at the national level. No matter gender, race, religion, ethnicity, sexual orientation, or age anyone can take the stage and compete in the three round poetry slam.