Kids Slam Poems | Examples
These Kids Slam poems are examples of Slam poems about Kids. These are the best examples of Slam Kids poems written by international poets.
In a rather egotistical
and pathetic attempt
to immortalize myself,
in something I lost,
everything.
And now that I’ve burned
all of my bridges and I’m drowning,
the only thing I have left
to do is work.
And it's not working.
And the only ones
praising my work
are little kids,
the same age I was
when I broke everything.
Lucky me.
I watch them do
the same foolish things,
reaching for pointless dreams,
immortalizing themselves
for no one and nothing.
What I wouldn’t do
to have something,
and what I wouldn’t give
for something
worth saying.
Empty words
look prettier
when they’re
written in blood.
And trust me,
it’s dripping
straight out of
my pen tip
and into my lungs.
I wish that
instead of pneumonia
I had amnesia.
Maybe then,
I could forget about
all of this.
The Corporate
Where did you get your ill gotten gains?
From broken backs and forgotten pains?
And will your wealth wash out the bloodstains
From the blue collars of those that came
To work for your pennies while you reign?
No matter to you, - you feel no shame...
For YOU live the life of luxury.
That is fine but you fail to see,
You garner wealth and give measly.
Then your shareholders want more from thee.
So you move the jobs to over sea.
It causes strife but
- you lack empathy .
You bend
You rend
You mend
And look
You begged
And borrowed
Bought
And took
You justify the pain that you cause,
“Just business” you say “no need to pause”
Rules don’t bind you, you just break the laws.
Your lobbyists mend by paying the pawns.
Your workers being thrown out on their front lawns!
But you don’t care to undo these wrongs...
All you’ve created is insubstantial.
Your sole purpose? to increase your financial
Needs to support your gluttonous life,
While the workers toil and suffer in strife
People are starving, their kids they can’t feed...
Where does greed end? How much wealth do YOU need?
We live in a world of brainwashed morality,
A world where the assumed romantic preference is the opposite sex,
A world where we expect people to marry and have kids.
I thought about having kids as a kid,
Marrying and having a family,
But it was not set in stone, and I questioned it.
Then I grew a little bit,
The idea lost its sheen,
And I began to think “no.”
Then I went through puberty,
In which I told you “I don’t really want kids,”
To which you said, “You’ll change your mind.”
Time has passed,
I am no longer a child, and my answer is now “no, under absolutely no circumstance.”
My answer’s been final for year on end, yet you still say the same thing.
“You’ll change your mind,” “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” “You’re too young to know what you want.”
Why is is important for me to have kids, even when I don’t want them?
The world is full of unloved people, and I would only add another.
I know what I want,
I have my values,
I don’t want kids,
And that’s my final answer.
I lose my fingers keeping count
the number of kids lost by murder count
in the eastern districts media houses dread
Patches of brown-black roofs on aerial view
Aunt hills of buildings single roomed
Shoot to kill, a governing tool
Stiff figures of teens bullet riddled
a common thing amongst those
shortlisted by fate to call home
Survival be the theme
U haven't heard of Vumilia
a small suburb rich in thugs
at least that's the word best used
by the papers you so dearly trust
To denote a group of youths
unexposed to a mastery of trades
The elderly in their twenties
those swift enough to dodge bullets
agile enough to survive the batsmen
and have caught the eyes of political dignitaries
war veterans with all due respect
Kim was almost nineteen
died graffited with bullet holes
Sarah was barely seventeen
wrong place at the wrong time
shooter: a blue boy in his fortys
We hath from a vicinity
where weakness is a rare condition
and the site of a parked car
sparks a dollar bill imagery
crowded class rooms, empty bellies
a deadbeat government
a thing called hope
Don't confuse love. Love is a feeling that will make you feel alive. Love is what you give, not what you get. Love is a strong word. 4 letters with a strong & beautiful definition. But what if you only feel love and the other person doesn't feel "love" for you? Would that be One-sided love? Or when he hits you & throws you in the floor after him coming home from work, Is that love? Or when you have a family & you guys are in court and she want to take your kids from you because she found you with someone else is that love? NO ITS NOT. LOVE IS WHEN YOU HAVE EACH OTHER ,LOVE IS THAT LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL. LOVE IS YOU.
Little pebbles of broken glass, litter the streets, but the children run barefoot anyway.
Stubbing toes, contracting disease, playing with cigarette butts and discarded syringes.
The teens hide by the dumpsters, and quickly pump a vein.
A homeless man, jealous of the teen; instead, clenches his timeless drug of choice, a good ole' fashioned beer.
The sun still shines on the dust covered signs.
The streets crumble under the weight of America's ever increasing obese population.
Nothing has really changed, besides new acceptance of tried and true vices.
There’s always little kids causing trouble, teens using drugs, depressed old men drinking away their shame.
America is still the same great country,
Far superior than all the rest!
Despite their reduction in crime, lowered drug addiction rates, drop in homelessness, and constant upkeep of their buildings and streets.
Well besides all that... America is still Superior in Every way….
Everyone seems happy
Everyone loves to entertain
Everyone wants to be famous
But will you make it in this world
Pick Me Pick Me yea
im the best shot youve got
pick me pick me yea
Im nothing but a snob
A little entertainment on tv
Where you watch your kids die
The commercial reads
Need more volunteers to get shot
Pick Me Pick Me yea
Im the best shot youve got
pick me pick me yea
please select me im hot
"It just goes to show
that all we care about
is getting famous
nomatter what we have to do
we will do it
just to get noticed"
Pick Me Pick Me yea
Im the best shot youve got
pick me pick me yea
im being someone im not
Die die die die with me
because im famous now
Die die die die with me
because i want to be noticed
Pick Me Pick Me yea
Im the best shot youve got
pick me pick me yea
everyone is hollow
Pick me Pick me Yea
When you make your wife into a baby machine
You can’t complain there’s not enough food to eat
I mean, what were you thinking with ten kids to feed?
Food would fall from the sky? Rain eggs, bread, or meat?
You had to have known, say by three kids or four,
That you would eventually need MORE food than before
Don’t act like you’re stupid, it’s plain to see
That what you really wanted, was a sex machine
Damn the consequences, the babies that came
Who cares if they starve? Certainly you’re not to blame
10/17/11 - posted 4/4/12
Susan Burch
jsystem
you try
hummer beamer
white collar job
picket fence home
adulteries and mistresses
to strip me of pride
years of knuckle fighting
to have it by my side
badge hangs on a chain
cell keys close to your fingertips
badge reflects sin i attempt to reach for hope
blinded cursed
beat down
i try to cope
stretching for the end of the rope
attached to my kids
from my heart and sould
you aim to rid
loneliness fear i thought i hid
choose one key pandora's box
labels stigmas prejudices hate
attack me
predator to predator
lifeless motionless bait
i wait
of human rights i don't rate
will you still try
your fake fascade
crooked smile tainted touch of cell keys
to strip my pride
years of knuckle fighting
to have it by my side
My butt is just so damn big
10 Irish men could do a jig
5 truckers could park their rig
16 Miners could plan a dig
9 drummers could perform a gig
2 Elephants could take a swig
22 college kids could do their trig
If only I’d eat less like a pig!
*For Susan's self exaggeration contest :)
Helpless puppet
Dancing on a string
Make me dance
Make me sing
I must bow deeply
So I can eat
Yes sir, okay!
May I clean your feet?
You pass your exams
You earn your degree
I’m your favorite flunky!
Pass judgement on me!
The employee consultation
Is your bone-cracking mallet
Why, I’m just a canvas
Or a color on your palette!
Your family gobbles steak
Plenty for all!
Hey, you’re rich and sassy!
Take the kids to the mall!
Your offspring are uplifted
They grow up safe and sound
Very soon one day
They’ll boss my kids around!
Bossus, you are strong
You do what you must
But playing your advantage
Doesn’t make you just!
She has no life skills.
She will never make it in the real world.
She will need caretaker for the rest of her life.
She won’t survive without me.
What kind of mother says such things
About their own child? I wonder.
Well let’s see, Mother,
What have you accomplished?
You never graduated college.
You haven’t had a job in over 25 years.
When you did you were in an entry-level position.
And you forfeited your singing career for marriage.
Then that marriage failed miserably.
You started seeing your kids’ skiing instructor.
He turned out to be a horrible drunk who became obsessed with you.
And you are afraid to be alone.
You can’t sleep in the house by yourself.
You can’t ride in an elevator by yourself.
You can’t drive in rural areas or the freeway by yourself.
You can’t leave the house without your car keys.
So I’m sorry, but who needs a caretaker, you or me?
You are a failure.
And I know I will flourish in life.
In fact, the only successful thing you did was create me and my brother.
So the next time you think you can tear me down,
Think again.
And do it to my face,
You coward.
The Orangutang:
There once was a traditionalist,
Who in his ignorance had missed
The beauty of youth,
The ever-changing truth!
He's a typical fundamentalist!
The Traditionalist:
"I can't stand these kids and their slang!
They are just looking for a bang!
Their rhymes are funky,
But so are monkeys!"
- Did he just call me an orangutang?
"These darn kids and this gosh darn slam,
It may flow, but it's still a scam!
If it ain't metered,
Then it's petered!
Why waste your ink scribbling flimflam?"
It's Saturday morn and I want to sleep
When I hear that SLAM that makes me jump to my feet.
The kids are awake and know no bounds
The whole house shakes with SLAMMING door sounds.
Now I'm upset that they have ruined my rest
So I SLAM the bedroom door to show I can do it best.
"Your Dad must be awake boys..." I hear the cry
SLAM goes the door as the kids come inside.
They come charging up the stairs like the Mongol horde
SLAM goes their bedroom door as they say not a word.
I am so mad now I have criss-crossed eyes
I reach for the doorknob but am SLAMMED in surprise.
The wife came up to see how I felt
SLAMMED the door on my head which raised such a welt.
"Oh, did I hurt you?" she asked carefully
"No", said I, "but that SLAMN door bit me!"