We had a great group of newcomers and regulars at our September open mic. Even those who not sure they would read that night were inspired by the end of it to share their minds, like we’ve seen at so many of our open mics. Thanks to all who came out! Here are some highlights:

Michael’s poem saw the poet and jumped; and he recounted how love does funny things before dying.

Jess’s peace poem told us we’re going to get it–hopefully without so much bullshit bullshit.

Sly showed us a reality that continually rapes a dream; hope and change seems to rest on a dusty shelf.

Suriya’s Message to the Judge…my eyes tell epic sages telepathically, ’cause words would take too long. Your majesty, I just hope your ESP is on.

Ryan OPP’d Gabe Moses, How to Make Love to a Trans Person…Realize that bodies are only a fraction of who we are; they’re just oddly-shaped vessels for hearts.

Kristie shredded Gretel…she thought she could follow herself back.

Danny said we’re mad because we were told what to want, even though we’re just dudes from Vermont; hatred will still eat your fucking heart away.

Suzi told us things you should never say to a therapist…right now I’m not trying to get committed while I pay my loan off.

Derek’s desire holds no boundaries; each time he passes city lights it reminds him of his beauty’s heart beat.

Red reminisced: you were such a charming mother[…mmm], every time you spoke you made my heart flutter; when you dreamed, you dreamed of me; your walk had theme music, and I had my dancin’ shoes on.

Ooh la la, and there was so much love to go around that night; so much love and feeling! And that’s what it’s all about. Come see us at Bossa in October, second Tuesday, 10/13, 7-9 PM, 2463 18th St. NW, DC.

On August 22nd, Jessica of the Guerrilla Poetry Insurgency facilitated a poetry workshop with Michael of the DC Poetry Project and their crew. The DC Poetry Project started making the GPI open mic their monthly meetup spot this year, and we are psyched to be collaborating with them.

The workshop was attended by ten people and featured individual and group writing exercises, then reciting and talking about our creations. We sat in the shade in Meridian Hill Park for a few hours, talked, wrote, and shared our thoughts on poetry and life. It was great!

Here are some of the group pieces that were created by an “elegant corpse” group writing exercise. That exercise is when you write two lines, fold the first one over so the next person can only see your second line, then pass it to the left and the next person writes two lines, folds over the first, passes the whole thing to the left, and so on. Some were pretty deep! Check it out:

Example 1:

Today the sky laughed at me
I gave it the middle finger
In my eternal angst by
Which my feelings lingered
Lingered like the bright white square of paint
Where her portrait once hung
While that wall may be repainted
My memory of her isn’t so easily undone
Her shadow fills the corners
Of my room when night falls
And the shadows succumb to my dreams
Or maybe not my dreams at all, but yours

Example 2:

A quiet planet sounds like an oasis just now
But I know from experience space is cold
The coldness never-ending
But I know I’ve felt summer’s sweltering gaze
The sun sees all of our daily rounds
While the moon whispers our secrets
Secrets we’ll never tell, stories of life
And laughter and hardly any pain
The friends gather beneath the ash trees
As the sun comes out again
Flickering, an indecisive source of life that orb
Mother of us all like a vast flickering breast
The Venus de Milo beckoned me
In a dream last night

Example 3:

The sky seemed a deep blue
That to me was all the more true
Because the marrow-generating cells in my bones
Repeated the truth, spoke it in mechanical rhythm
The truth, the truth, the truth, the truth
How often must it be repeated to become the truth?
Like an old TV jingle you can still sing
The stories of our innocence cling to us
No matter how hard we try to wipe them off
Or sometimes wash them away with wind red, delightful, delicious
Like an apple
Like a strawberry pie
Like a damsel’s red thigh
Like a baby’s soft cry