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Please join us every second Tuesday of the month at Bossa, 2463 18th St. NW, DC 20009. Our open mic is 7-9 PM, and it’s usually followed by a great band.

Hope to see you at the next one!:

Bossa, Tuesday, April 14, 2015, 7-9 PM

We kicked off 2015 in poetic style with many friends stopping by Bossa in January. If the night showed me anything, it’s that it’ll be a great year for poetry. So much going on in the world, so much to share. Here are some highlights:

Shahid reminded us that we fought a world war to establish human rights. America wants more war, and it shows.

Catherine’s love guzzle was profound: though you’re still alive, you seem to live to die.

Luis asked what sponge can properly clean with dirty water? Love is the weapon that steadies the infections.

Jess is always coming to say Down to Oppression, yo! Holy crap, there’s no more bullshit!

Catherine’s metro ride captured teabags tingling heavy eyelids next stop Judiciary Square.

Emmanuel warned that power concedes nothing if you ask it for favors.

Gowri represented her state in DC as a spelling nerd. She is from JFK airport…red chilis dripping oil…from an island to an empire.

Luis talked about the superficial age we’re living in—raising children as if their innocence is limitless.

Wilfred introduced us to a new idea…the H Police. The Hug Police. Put those tickets to good use and get a hug before you blow your fuse.

Emmanual talked about his [and men’s] link to women: I am the shell of a woman. Since I was born I was under the spell of a woman, because I gave hell to a woman. What happens to a dream deferred is exactly what happens to a queen deferred.

Elizabeth blew in and gave us a moment of her mind: Life passes through the death, through the breath. Breath is divine, so all life matters. I won’t breathe until you come back around and rise with a new life and invigoration.

Gowri also gave us this: Despite the rules about how we’re supposed to talk, poetry gives us an excuse to break them and call it…being creative.

Come out to Bossa and be creative with us! We’ll see you there next month on Tuesday, February 10th.

We wrapped up the year nicely at Bossa in December. GPI vets and new voices shared their varied perspectives, rhythms, and rhymes. l saw once again how poetry brings us together and can help us peacefully explore our differences. Here are some highlights:

Since it was holiday time, Catherine shared her Christmas carol, Fascism is Coming to Town: They hear you when you’re speaking upon your telephone…[I can't remember the rest of this rhyme but perhaps it ends with "drone"] oh!

Shahid sang, we can’t turn a blind eye to the challenges we find. There’s a Mike Brown in every town. Death machines in million dollar cases. Justice is hard to find in this world.

Yerusalem said the power to forgive is the power to free oneself from the pit.

Jess recited her DC Poem Song: Pigeon sittin on a statue head, Vacuum cleaner in the street-ah, Liquor bottles in window cases, Kissy people meet and greet…

Kayla told us about her trip to Palestine. She is told she has a birth right…you belong here…they don’t belong here…spinning from propaganda. My brothers and sisters, we cannot heal through hurting.

Lindsey: Tell me your story, and I will listen. Your story is important. Your story is clear and brave.

Catherine asked, am I killing you, me? Am I making you turn your back?

Hawah told us about OCU’s new movie Fly by Light and mentioned that a funny quirk of realization is re-realizing. As beautiful as religion can be, it can also be destructive. The world is not even ours—speciesism is just like racism and sexism.

Ooh la la. Love those deep thoughts! Join us at Bossa, 2463 18th St. NW DC,d every second Tuesday of the month 7-9 PM. See you next time!

Thanks to all who came out in November! We had a great time as always at Bossa. Catherine B. Krause, who found us in October, became our impromptu feature. You can see more of her work at

Here are the open mic highlights…

Luis focused, got down in the lotus, because clarity’s a rarity but lessons are profound.

Jess spoke of the misaligned timing of the sexes’ gonad development, and its impact on life choices. (in rhyme, of course)

Catherine gave us a sampling from three of her books. The latest is called Ignore This Book.
Some tasty nuggets:
- From Classifieds…Journal for sale belonged to our grandfather, he bought it before the war, never wrote in it.
- From The Leopard Slug…I’m on the swing set, pulling on the chains trying to swing high enough to flip over the bar, but I get scared and jump, and there’s a reason, ’cause nothing good can come once you lose that instinct.
- From Ignore This Book,”The Herd”…the giant erect cocks of the elephants around the watering hole; the woman who talks to the planes–the pills, the pills, the pills.
- And…My muse, who lives in coffee, may your name be holy, your creativity come and your will be done in my poetry as it was in Berryman’s.

Shahid asked us to remember who we are in our own skin rinds. He reminded us that our masters will be hobnobbing in the Hamptons, and here’s the crazy part…we thank them when we get a raise. We don’t have to settle for that shit.

Sarah practiced radical forgiveness: I blame myself for… I blame you for… (and love and understanding was felt by all)

Luis told us integrity is a necessity in this life rife with inequity and what we seep our children soak up like a sponge. Take only what you need. You don’t need it, let it be.

There’s more to share and hear at the next poetry open mic. We’re at Bossa, 2463 18th St. NW DC, every 2nd Tuesday of the month, 7-9 PM. See you on December 9th!

Hi all! We had a great time at Bossa in October. We had a rare feature Pasckie Pascua, who was on an east cost tour with his new book, “Red is the Color of my Night.” We first met Pasckie at our Dupont Circle open mics years ago. He resides in North Carolina. We also had our usual band of GPIers along with some new faces sharing their words and bringing their spirit to the stage. The highlights:

You can’t keep Jess down with no pain, because we’re going to get it–we are.

Pasckie revealed his loneliness in the land of milk and honey, where he can hear his heart howl.

Catherine showed us the voices yelling at her to get her shit together, when she was 18 she had an excuse.

Chris freestyled about Barry Farm–people tilled their land and passed livelihoods on to the next of kin, the generation nowadays see corporate colonies sneaking back without rationalization; families being threatened by displacement, the most vulnerable people in DC now in a legal and political fight.

Amy read a Poem for Peace…if only every one of us will realize that we are the people, we are the peace poem.

Chip shared with us The Night the Carousel Burned Down, written while in prison in Cambodia. Twilight–all I see are severed petals falling from the sky.

Catherine said mom’s goal was to graduate college, but dad’s goal was mom.

Passkie was an activist in the Philippines. When he was 9 years old, he managed a baseball team. Didn’t have enough gear, and raised the money for uniforms and shoes. Then he lived in the mountains and covered war, the faces within the faces don’t wind up on paper. No one remembers war but the wind.

Shahid warned that agencies assume guilt by association…here at camp x-ray you will say we can’t apply the law equally; the thing you won’t find in any jail is justice. Welcome to the terrordrome.

Much more of that was heard and felt. What will your voice add to the mix? Hope to see you out at Bossa in November!

We had a beautiful night of poetry and inspiration at Bossa in September. Many of the ol’ GPI crew came out, as well as some newcomers. Some highlights…

Jessica kicked it off by saying Down to Oppression…There are small steps to a height, where our leaders fight, keeping power not peace, waging war in our name. We raise them to their positions, yet we never check their decisions, if we don’t pay attention, things will always be the same. We have come to say down, we have come to say down, we have come to say down, down to oppression…yeah-e-yeah. [Just sing all that.]

Shahid invoked the force: Oh be one; -no- be. We will discover a way again to rise.

Elizabeth brought us back to the year 2000, when the president stole the seat. Everyone shared what was near and dear to their hearts. Peace is not a trivial thing; it makes poetry inside ring.

Lacy showed us we are the edge. By saying that I’ve always loved you, know it to be true. I promise to come to every solstice. If we are not the roots that gently cradle each other, then we will fall into the sea. We want you to shout! We need you to shout.

Jahmel told us to stomp your hands, clap your feet, because you have things backwards, if you think there’s no black history. He calls for a brotherhood amongst all creeds and colors. This is how you show your love for me…a voice box for the voiceless; a multiple choice for the choiceless.

Carla showed that the world sounds muffled from inside, as she tumbles down this jumbled path. Through winding blue fallopians, she has been reborn.

Luis’s many micros make the macro. Come step into his mind, take a tour. Follow him as we navigate this labrynth. He’s prone to tangents, but the point is…integrity is a necessity in this life rife with complexity.

Elizabeth’s ode to Lacy was the birth of the restless spirit. Here’s to the one with the golden hair, who carved her name in the trees. I will give you salmon and salt to drown your tears. That is how the Celtic queen lured a god into her bed.

Lisa read the blocks and patterns of Jessica’s OPP.

Shahid’s cover of Prince’s When Doves Cry was fun to drum with and must be mentioned.

Luis asked, if we don’t recognize problems, then how are we to solve them? He no longer blames the system for the chains he’s twisted in.

Lacy stood in a cloud of lust and red red wine. Are you wild like her? Are you wild and ready?

Come out in October and be wild at the GPI open mic. We’ll have a special feature in October, Pasckie Pascua, an old friend from North Carolina. See you at Bossa! (Oct. 14th, 2463 18th St. NW, DC, 7-9 PM)

GPI had the pleasure of having a special visit from the New York Peace Poets at Bossa in August. These fabulous spoken word artists bring the rhythm, rhyme, and fun(k) to education and building community through art. Check them out here! Shahid hosted the night and welcomed not only the Peace Poets but a slew of other GPI vets and new voices to the mic. See you out next and every month on the second Tuesday of the month, 7-9 PM at Bossa, 2463 18th St. NW DC.

We had a lovely time at Bossa in July. Some old friends and new faces joined the fun. Here are the highlights…

Mark reminded us that Napoleon Turner used to read Langston Hughes each Sunday on WPFW. Hey Nap, where ya headin’? End of the line, got a gig. Don’t forget the blues.

Laurie asked us to shut off the auto-pilots so wisdom can catch up with technology…an age is collapsing, collapsing Aquarius…don’t delay.

Shahid warned that our casual indifference to mass human suffering reveals our babylon. Out of sight, out of mind.

Diana is not the only thing tangled in Petworth tonight.

Gowri read found poetry, an eraser poem (text by someone else, with lines taken out): The Privacy Act of 1975, Records Maintained on Individuals. Copies of the concise statements of reasons; each routine use of records in the system; established appropriate safeguard of the security of records.

Lyndi told us don’t choke on your own apathy…how can you claim you have love to give, if you stand idly by?

Mark gave us his confessions of a knuckleballer. He saw his mother run up to Gary Cooper at Idle Wild, and he slept at the New Deal Hotel, where the bed springs scratched his butt.

Laurie set me free, now I can see, the life I was livin’ wasn’t soul fulfillin’.

Shahid thinks if we had unity we could be a community, instead we’re a managerie. Our commitment to our values has been half-assed.

Diana said, hey mama; mama doesn’t laugh; there’s no sound; hey mama, what happened? We watch you watching us watch you.

Gowri OPPd Shiledya Patel’s Offering. …History is a million terrors.
(See Gowri and others every Monday at Bloombars, 3222 11th St NW DC; open mic at 9 PM.)

Galise told us that home is where he belongs, and here is where he stands. Treat here where you stand as you would treat home.

Hope to see you out at the next GPI open mic! Every second Tuesday of the month at Bossa, 2463 18th St. NW DC, 7-9 PM.

We had a full house at the GPI Bossa open mic in June. New familiar faces were there, and friends from years past stop by. One even had on a mysterious disguise. You never know who will show up at GPI. Here are some highlights…

Luis saw demons walking next to him, and now we check out his verbal collage, because we’ll be the force of energy coursing through our veins.

Lucy read of Stockholm Syndrome. Religion used as the great weapon for the perfect heist; Africa at first fought tooth and nail, but the transgression was so well orchestrated that her own children don’t even know what took place—they have forgotten. She says to Africa’s children, take back your Orishas.

She also paid homage to Maya Angelou by beautifully reading Phenomenal Woman.

Grim wants to know who’s got a camera, are you watching, are you aware of the sea butterflies and their plight, are you aware of all the names for yourself, are they right? Do you know your galactic signature?

Melanie recited The Trumpet—yesterday’s dreams are today’s cumulus nimbus. And the sun calls for the world to wake up; a hummingbird will appear to soak up.

False Prophet is one of the few good Men in Black, who knows forgiveness and trust.

Denise read OPP by Andrea Lord: I come as women dark as knight; I do come like a warrior.
She also found a native community in the District of Columbia, this place ripe with the songs of our ancestors. When will the voices of native women lead our nation again?

Shahid always feels like somebody’s watching him, while he takes the green out of the pockets of politicians.

Camila OPPd an Urdu poem by Nosha Gilani, after translated by her: I feel wherever I flash my eye an accident.

Tree Child played his guitar and sang, out here on the streets where the water roll dirty I see a lot of people hurting, and I feel bad that I can’t help every single one. (His name gave him shoes while he was singing the blues, and he still has no soul.)

Jessica was the hostess with the mostess.

Mike and Basher strummed, drummed, and danced something that I can’t see, something that is not even reality. Blessed earth for a high crime, blinded by the desires of a single soul on fire. (They realized they’ve got something to say [and interpret with movement].)

See you at Bossa again on July 8th!

- Jessica

Our open mic at Bossa in May was great! Old friends and new were in the house to share their creativity and good vibes. Here are some highlights…

Laurie serenaded us with the sounds of Spring and bemoaned our missed window of opportunity, a window on the world.

Shahid painted oblivions to the menagerie and OPP’d Sasha Fabricopa (SF crew)…you shine like a gem suspended in time.

Jess gave us her theory on the sexes and noted we’ve got heights in sight but few ladders to climb.

Ted OPP’d us some Digital Underground…alright Stop, collaborate, and listen!…with style and grace.

Sunny is too tired to write, but she cannot stop now. She wrote about the rapture, the restless bodies fearful of their souls, and to liberate you from fear. We are Jesus over and over again every time we love.

Sarah professed her ode to Jessica.

Desmond accompanied us on the drum…a nice throw-back to those Dupont Circle days.

Niki read us Langston Hughes…that justice is a blind goddess.

Thanks to all who came out! Hope to see you at the next one in June, second Tuesday, 6/10, 7-9 PM at Bossa.

- Jessica

The DC Guerrilla Poetry Insurgency (GPI) is an anti-authoritarian, collaborative, pro-humanity artists' collective incorporating music, rhythm, spoken word, community and resistance.

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