This poem was written after watching a few hours of slam poetry on Youtube. Let me know what you think...it's my first shot at slam poetry.*

There are so many words flowing around out there about the big girls. The thick girls, the curvy girls, the p-h-a-t phat girls. About their plush and soft exteriors, their abundant backsides, their willingness to accept themselves and their hopefulness that others will do the same. Their….thereness.
They are beautiful, don’t get me wrong.
They are beautiful.

But what about the skinny girls?

The small girls with petite builds and large hearts and an aversion to the word short. The size two and under girls, the drive thru can’t gain a pound girls, the I AM NOT ANNOREXIC OR BULLEMIC girls.

The girls who will always be referred to as “pixie-like” or “waif-like” or “twig-like.” The perfect model body girls that all of the other girls hate…because of their lack of fat.

Aren’t they beautiful?

The girls with the size 32 bust line, the girls who, at 24, still shop in the junior sections of department stores. The girls who, regardless of their age, their strengths and weaknesses, their experiences, heartaches and joys, disappointments and triumphs, their want or need for life and love will always look like they missed a meal or gave it back purposefully with the intent of becoming even thinner. The girls who, no matter how ******* HARD they try, cannot even weigh 100 lbs soaking ******* wet.

Aren’t they beautiful?

The big girls have to search and search for cute and **** and attractive clothes because of their size. Guess what? So do the skinny girls. Do you know ******* hard it is to find a pair of pants with a size zero waist and a 34 inch leg? To finally find an extra small shirt that doesn’t have one of the top three cartoon characters of the time plastered across the front?

All I’m saying is yes, the thick girls, the curvy girls, the p-h-a-t phat girls…
They are beautiful.

But ******, so am I.

There’s danger in the night.
I’ll leave the light on.
A stormy symphony.
I will write poetry that comes to me.
Slammed into my temples.
A dream with the same theme.
One I cannot escape.

There’s danger in your sight.
I’ll leave the light on.
I’ll marry for money,
not love.
Calming my anxiety.
Leaving this Earth alone.
Celestial bodies waltzing.
Whispering contradictions.
Imagination gone awry
Aimless argumentation.

There’s danger in disillusion.
I’ll leave the light on.
Candles burning brightly.
Illuminating.
You can’t have it all.
I’m just beginning.
I hope you like it.
My hidden legacy.

There’s danger in seclusion.
I’ll leave the light on.
Founding fathers laid these remains.
Karma of our ancestors.
Ancestors to a future generation.
A revolution against
The lack of revolution
against
the thought of revolting.
Isolation is a cheap trick.

And when they come
they will say
they’ll talk of me
and of this day.

This is just the beginning.

Our Father,
Who art in Heaven.
Hear me.

I’ll leave the light on.

I will conquer you.
I will watch and learn and figure you out.
Sometimes it’ll take a while
But I’m going to slam and slam
Put my pencil down
Push you out
From the depths of my minds
The deepest wrinkles in my brain

And then free them into you
When I slam down
The poem will last
The length it wants to last
I’m going to figure you out
Slam poetry
Watch out

Here’s the thing
I’m not pulling away
But I don’t even want to stay
How do you live
How do you die
How do you make your life useful
What am I even going to write

I’ll let you go
Set you free
Pull ideas out from all around me
And when I’m done
I want to have won
Because you’ve judged my face
And what it displays
But you haven’t actually judged me

You go by what you hear.
You let their ideas and lies
Infuse into your mind
And that’s all you want to believe
You think you’re so right
With your opinionated minds
Just because someone told you
This who’s who and what’s what
This is the TRUTH
Of a small town
But really we’re made of a bunch of lies

Slam Poetry
Set me free
Let my horse out of the gate
I’m ready to start this race
Just let me escape.
Right here, right now.

So I’ll put it down
Get it out.
But first, teach me how.

Slam poetry,
Fight off my ways
Say what you want to say.
I’ll conquer you.
One day.
Don’t you wait

I’ll take what words I know
And endue them with life
Reveal my broken mind
From these hands as I write
Have I got a stanza
Am I getting this right?

Slam poetry,
Your mystery surrounds me
And I am here to show you
That I will solve you
Each time I tap this page
With a new idea or word
Or even phrase.

Slam poetry,
Here I am
Greeting you now
Don’t just watch me
Listen as the words come out

What am I saying
How is this going
Why can’t I contain this
There’s something deep inside
And I’m too weak to fight

I’m drowning in myself
******* in water and exhaling air
Slam poetry what is going on
Are you driving me crazy.

Stop avoiding my glance
At every single chance
Look into my eyes
And tell me
I’ve got this one thing
Right

i. smoky fingers curl around the heart-beat
   pulse-beat song-beat and wrench out the
   bricks one at a time
   the rasp of flesh latching on cement, the
   grating grinding of stones lunging out, and
   the scream as they fall in the dark rabid
   waters
   the building erodes in the fog
   the building erodes in the storm
   the building erodes like everything erodes
        and my heart erodes with it and in it
        and among it

ii. he has never known fear and that is why
    he climbs up scales up cringes up the
    never ending walls
    that is why he clings to the bricks as they
    are torn out and that is why he hopes that
    he too will fall and
    that is why he wants to erode because
    erosion is the melting, the harsh corrosive
    acid leaching away, erosion is the secret
    to a long
        and beautiful
        and happy
        and irony-drenched life

iii. gray mud spatters - no, it swallows - no
    it consumes like a monster, a monster
    with tendril claws and poisonous fangs,
    and it eats you with a flick of its jaw - no,
    it erodes
    gray mud erodes in the twin way of the
    world, gray mud is the thing that erodes
    you and your love and your lover and it's
    the thing that is eroded until one day it's
    gone
    and nothing
    will ever
         erode again

iv. he is covered in gray mud, and i am covered
     in gray mud, and my skin is rebelling against
     the cold slick slimy tingling creature that *****
     the bruises away, but he welcomes it
     he always welcomes everything more than i do
     and maybe that's the reason
          maybe that's the hidden reason
          why the world is eroding