Long Poetry slam Poems
Long Poetry slam Poems. Below are the most popular long Poetry slam by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Poetry slam poems by poem length and keyword.
2025.08.23
A very good afternoon to everyone.
We are here for this event
In a library, "Poetry slam".
It was the first time for me,
I never heard of it and had no idea,
That this has happened for years.
We were here with different interest,
Some loved poems, others might not be the same
Some was curious, others were serious.
This was the poem to be entered.
I did nothing like that at the end.
There it went. First time for me to attend
Was not what I expected.
I heard ten poems read, one really worthed the trip.
The two winners of the day will represent the State.
I find this event help psychologically,
A food for thought, which everyone forgot,
Because they were preoccupied with lives' materials,
Day in day out, chasing all the essentials
Busy making their life more comfortable.
I knew many people who have had tough life,
Compared to many of us from all walk of life.
Some have little income with regular expenses.
No hope for themself, lot of expected by others.
No rights go with their responsibities.
No benefits but plenty liabilities.
They did not work, but they were busy.
Constantly on the move to find food on their plate,
To have a shelter in a safe place.
They wake up early and stay up till late.
Living is tough but tougher for those
Who were born without previllage.
How about to those who have disabilities.
They did not have handicap to every things.
Their inabilities might come suddenly,
They were not used to it, but had to accept it.
They struggled to over come,
What meant to be naturally and easily done
But not any more and not like before.
These people with disability,
Travelled on public transports free.
Subjected to many ruthless people's bully
DESTROYER vs' GARETH # 3
You hit me a bit on the 3rd round
I'm not easy to knock on the ground
Literarily I'm still on my feet
In poetry, there are no side effects
Still your words have no sound
I came out of nowhere, like a threat
Your mind blew a cold sweat
Like a cigarette, I smoked you:-(
I made you sit on your poo
You don't have what it takes for Russian Roulette:-(
I put your file in a shame book
Stuck you in a cell hole, like a crook
My identity I give it a twirl
My only pearls found in a Play Girl
Between my legs, take one last look:-)
Gareth, permission to call a lawyer
Surrender your pen, to the destroyer
Apparently this you did not enjoy
Sentence of community service, WATERBOY!!
Under the supervision, "I am your new employer."
You had your head start
You miss like a blind dart
Now you called the last stop
Unfortunate I'm on top
Vultures devouring sweet flesh,
spit your words out like a fart.
On your second round, cutting you slack.
Are you done with the Anxiety attack:-(
A fountain pen, paper, packed by your Mother.
She threw them out by the gutter.
Mr James, time is up, hit the road, Jack.
The POETRY DESTROYER,
just struck back.
NOTE: (-: fun.:-)
Spoken warriors, with rhythm words as their sound swords/
A poetry slam where words and body language put the audience in a sweaty heap/
the spectrum of a creative sound off between spoken word poetry rappers and new time jazz hipsters
has the club bustin' to the rafters/ expressive improvised creative pace and volume on the spot word dance/
man, like a spontaneous mind flow composition
of rap talkin' men and women cookin' up a stream of a consciousness groove/ yeah/ like I feel mile high now/
iconic on-stage impulses of slant rhyme life spoken word poetry/ back-n-forth they go/ words in high gear/ pedal to the metal/ on race, racial slurs, sex, who's doin' who, drive Bys, and TV shows/
like words driving' at a hundred MPH/
becoming telephone poles wizin' by/
high voltage sparks fly when spoken word funk meets uptown nu jazz poetry/
African American poets along with Native American spoken word artists come together to duel it out in a Poetry slam/
it helps to feel the natural flow of high energy words in this performance poetry slam jam/
No reading from pages, just memory’s embrace/
save the date bro It's live with no rewind/
this slam is somethin' else man/
you be reelin' in the feelin' when this Poetry jam becomes a fusion of rhythm word speak on struggles, courage, dreams, love, hip hop rap, and using voice beat drum licks in between word spit speak/
a landscape of uninhibited words with body drum chest thumps/ yo, do you see and feel what i'm sayin'
the dynamic instrument of a voice workin the mic to the crowd with MCs shouting back at ya while you be poppin your performance skills on stage/
the interplay between the mind and free spirit WTF thoughts be burnin the house down/
who's gonna wear the slam crown?
they be back flipping' and word trippin' these slam poets/
trying to outdo each other in a face off/
word lyricism with scat rap concepts/
diggin' deep into emceeing the joint/
keepin' the flow and staying on the beat
You've ignited a fire beyond what you know,
my smooth hand glides providing the flow,
striking lightening that makes the mind blow,
you stole my rhymes and put them on show.
I followed the trail and look where it led,
a place full of those that are dead in the head.
I've had it with low lifes where plagiarism thrives,
you steal, you lie, and you will not survive!
Taking these rhymes of mine,
multiple times you swines,
disgraceful faces with empty brain spaces,
you have no place in the human race.
Posting all about the inspiration you taste,
you're nothing more than human waste.
Everytime I find what you've took,
I look to see what is the prize?
What do you get for these crimes?
You just get attention and praise,
what a sad way to live happy days.
Soaking up the limelight
making out you rhyme tight,
acting like you've got groove
while your reputation improves,
right up to the day that it falls through,
suddenly out of the blue I'm coming for you.
I will do to you whatever I choose,
I'll steal your laces make you a noose,
I wont give you time to say your excuse.
That poem you posted,remember who wrote it,
be aware of the fact you're poking a poet,
I'll write rhymes about you
I'll make jokes that are true,
exposing the truth with a hoof to the tooth,
the roast of the doofus stupendously useless.
You cannot match my catchy raps
so you best not try to snatch from my patch,
not any of my pieces with their sweet releases.
You live down on your knees
with your ear to ear breeze,
I rhyme with ease,
you've just climbed out the trees.
Remember that reputations will rise and will fall,
at the end is humiliation and you will feel like a fool,
so be wise, don't plagiarise and live a life of lies,
it'll steal your happiness,
and it will kill your pride.
Be wise, do not plagiarise.
(........ what you gonna do when I come for you?
plagiarise, plagiarise,
what you gonna do?
What you gonna do when I come for you?
Played your eyes, played your eyes,
what you gona do?
What you gonna do when I come for you?)
Eureka, Shazam, the moment just came,
The moment came out of the blue,
Where all that I’ve written from deep down inside,
Can finally come into view,
I can speak out each poem like a poetry slam,
Poems you’d speak to the moon,
And digitize each on the new record app,
Then distort it to make it in tune,
And to give it some funk I’d add an organ,
And drums to accompany my voice,
Yep, a poem with some instruments to support what is said,
A jazz sort of melodious noise,
Oh wait, hang on, this isn’t something new,
Poems with some symphonic jam,
It’s what I hear on the radio each day,
It’s a song that is sung by a band.
Does my posture hint who I am
At open mic poetry slam
I prefer to hide behind lime winged words
On my pc or tablet or pen paper if I have it
Will my message get loosely lost
As you notice the style of hair I toss
If I am short tall fat or thin
Do YOU hear my message or take my presence in
I don't always walk up to the mic
And I'm wondering this teal thought tonight
Is my heart a red paper valentine
That presents as giving up on love in time
I stand here on this stage
Full of fear desiring fuchsia praise
Seeking love of audience in my way
Unity and community follow my page
I am mistaken I am not a poet
Just a lost soul hoping to grow it
That special something the it factor
Standing on stage as a benefactor.
If you notice my shoes
You know I'm an old soul
Hearing my heart is bruised
Told you so.
I get confused with the snaps and claps
All I want from you is a spiritual tap.
I stood too long before the crowd
I read my poem in a voice so loud
I feel relief like yellow sun from cloud
Thanks for listening glad I came out.
mene tekel peres - calligraphic prescience.
global village voice - a dialect of babel
the poetry slam - pen viva voce
inherent bloodline - curdle into nepotism
Atlanta's Oliver Hardy
so pretentious and somewhat lardy,
had a sidekick,bungling,but thin
both silently,still bring a grin
The talented Christina Rossetti
wrote carols and much poetry.
Married love elluded her,I'm afraid,
the poor lass dying as a spinster maid
Dante Gabriel Rossetti
a Victorian pre - raphelite ,you see,
with his true love,buried his poetry
but later ....could not let them be.
Playwright Wiliam Shakespeare
held rhyme & cadence ,so dear.
Plays in verse were his thing
making our English lingo sing.
There once was a composer named Cage
whose compositions caused 'listener' rage.
His music,was too radically new,
it gave the orchestra so little to do
Edmund Clerihew Bentley
wrote poetry everso gently.
His greatest claim to fame
immortalised his mother's maiden name
For the lovely Adelaide Crapsey
a long life was not to be.
In syllable,two,four,six &eight
she created the cinquain anew!
Scottish poet Wiliam Soutar
is now well known wide and far,
for a his diary of a dying man-
Do read his whigmaleeries, if you can
Submission
to 2014 INTERGENERATIONAL POETRY SLAM ELDERS AND TEEN TRACK
University of Nebraska, Omaha Nebraska
In some states I can vote, but yet afraid
I can drink alcohol, but can't rent an apartment
Some states I can marry well at 12,14, 16
But I am still a child without means
I have all the parts of an adult
Yet they of whom I do not trust
I drive a car fast, but I won't last
I bus, I just cuss then crash
I can't remember what I had for lunch last
I won't even do my own wash or dirty dishes
Cut the grass or turn off light switches
Pimples, low self esteem, nightmares video streams
Cell phone, Facebook, don't need to read books or magazines
No it all incontinent lost in elements
Give me equality, freedom without grown up stress
Let me alone dispute my age
I am free I am grown
Give me truth I am youth to have fun
Youth with no truth
Teenager forever
Can't die because I am
a teenager
a teenager forever
Until I turn twenty, twenty to one
No time for mom or dad
Again give me freedom
Without the rules and lectures
A teenager
A teen youth ager with the demands of gold and silver
I am just a Teen Youth Ager
07/20/14
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
When I was younger so much younger than today, I used to go to lots of poetry events. There was something called Red Sky that was every week, people were so very serious about it. Then one day I had an epiphany, "My god. I'm at a poetry event," and stopped going.
Later it all became poetry slams. Went to a few of those, too, in awe of the awfulness. People with neither talent for acting, for reciting, for rapping, and certainly not for writing poems, put all these lack of talents together and had total support from audiences that consisted in the main of people only waiting for their turn.
Once when I'd blessedly escaped from a typical slam, there was a homeless drunk across the street from the noisy venue. He was having his own private poetry slam.
He kicked a telephone pole and screamed "Hello telephone pole!" stomped on the concrete and screamed, "Hello sidewalk!" then peered into a garbage can with "Hello garbage!" and shook the hell out of a newspaper vending machine, "Phuck you news!" It was a better poem than any that was being screamed inside at the slam.
Begin with a groove, some delicious, soulful melodies interwoven with genres including jazz, neo-soul, lo-fi hip-hop, jazz sub-genres/
with spoken word tricks in the mix with programmed drums, turntables, looping in Sonny Rollins, Elvin Jones, Hubert Laws, Lonnie Liston Smith/
add some house music word with a vibrant, rhythmic pulse packin' the dance floor/ so hey, whatcha say to the DJ as he's laying down beats, experimenting with melodic hooks and some nasty background heat/
double scratching Rick James Super Freak and pumpin' up the supa dupa bassline from Mary Jane Girls All Night Long to the party hardy dance house crowd/
ethereal pops of sound synergy drops/ man, hit me with a lo-fi boost so I can spit out my word anthem I'm sparking off now the heat be flowin' down to my dancin' feet/
I dig the Crooklyn crew is bringing back Break Dancin' with their signature freestyle/
they even brought their cardboard dance floor/ they be makin' moves and cuttin' grooves/ I hate to go but I'm outta here/
gotta jam into the poetry slam