Two weeks ago I went to a poetry workshop
Two weeks ago you asked me to write a Slam Poem
Two weeks ago I did not know what a Slam Poem was!
I WAS CONFUSED
You told me to forget about
Hauntingly romantic stuff
Sealed with a kiss stuff
Romantic bliss stuff
Over the moon stuff
Mills and Boon stuff
YUK!
NO!
You said be blunt
Cut to the chase
Grab by the balls
Short and curlies and all
Give us the bones of the story you said
Spew out the words
Blood guts and all
Like the innards from a hung-drawn-and-quartered corpse
Displayed for all to see on the castle walls
In the Good Old Days
But then
I remind myself
I can’t write Slam Poetry
I thought I told you that?
Are you listening when I say that I can’t?
Suddenly I realise that can’t is not a word
I know it is not a word because I looked it up in the dictionary
So it must be true that can’t is not a word
Well then, I think, maybe it’s impossible for me to write a Slam
Impossible is a word, I know it is a word, because I looked it up in the dictionary
I AM STILL CONFUSED
So I will put on my thinking cap because I know it will help
Everyone has a thinking cap, right?
I find mine in the conglomeration of whatever lies under my bed
Everyone has conglomeration under their bed don’t they?
Wearing my thinking cap, I find only one possible answer
Yes, it is obvious, this must be a nightmare
It’s just too weird, it can’t be reality
Oops forgot again, can’t is not a word
One thing I do know for sure is that nightmares are possible
I looked it up in the dictionary, so it must be true
Nightmares are a place where the impossible can happen the dictionary tells me
So I conclude this is a nightmare
Everyone has nightmares
Everyone knows nightmares are not real
I am reassured because I know when nightmares are over I wake up
When I wake up I will write a Slam
Because you asked me to
Two weeks ago
