"Words are Weapons"You can click the audio above to listen while you read...
I used to have this manager back when I was a bartender.
One night She told me: "I don’t know what it is, But something about you reminds me of my ex-fiancé" She kind of looked off, A twinkle moistened her eye, And wrinkles hoisted either side Of her lips And she said: "He's such a dick" Wow. “Fuck you too”, I thought. I blew it off. I acted like it never happened. But I added those words to the collection of: "You Always", "You never", "Why can't you", "I wish you", "You used to", "I told you", "Try harder", and "How could you's", That I always stow Below deck, Hidden away Like Hannibal Lecter’s prey Hidden with the collection of words That hammer nails through wooden skin, That built a coffin within My gut A coffin only I could see, Only I knew existed. It was a coffin encasing a collection Of words, That hurt. That sting. And when there's no outlet, Those words fester, Forming fear, Foaming up like crashing waves, Creating an ocean of excuses, To lash out. Words, Are weapons of personal destruction, We know this as a human race, We're taught as children That sticks and stones break bones But the hard truth is That a crooked comment Can rip guts from stomachs, Smash esteem Like ants under a five-year-old’s sneaker, And callouses Don’t form as easy as one may think. Years ago I had a gym teacher who scared everyone. I hid in back corners near rubber tumbling mats To ward off lightning bolt remarks. One day he said, To the smartest girl in the class - You know the girl, The one who always fucked up the grading curve - One day he said to that girl: “If only you had as much drive in the gym as you do in math, I bet you could go far” That smart girl said nothing. She just added those words to her own coffin inside. But her coffin was not thick oak like mine, It wasn't designed To hold the hurt Or channel it anywhere Like into a poem. Today, That smart girl sits behind cold iron bars. Those words piled up for years Until she could no longer cherish herself, Until her confidence was a cesspool, Drowning aspirations in anguish. And so one day when that boyfriend, The one who ran around behind her back, Lashed out, She lashed back. Her outlet Was 9 millimeters, She sunk the swollen words Of all her verbal beaters In the form of a bullet In that cheater's Head. Words, Are weapons of personal destruction, We know this as a human race, We're taught as children That sticks and stones break bones But the hard truth is That a crooked comment Can rip guts from stomachs, Smash esteem Like ants under a five-year-old’s sneaker, And callouses don’t form as easy as one may think. I’m not saying everyone’s made of glass, But not everyone’s a soldier either, So think about what you’re gonna say Before you say it, Cuz a bully doesn't always hide in the shell of the biggest kid on the playground Other recommended poems based on this one:
ASHKENAZI | WAR | PENCILED GRAFFITI Need help writing slam poetry? Check out some posts, blogs and articles here |
"Words are Weapons" is a slam poem about bullyingBullying has been a hot topic for the past few years. I guess when I was younger, I always pictured a "bully" as a kid on the playground pushing around another kid, usually smaller or younger, or coaxing his daily lunch money. With the rise of social media, bullying takes on a new meaning today. But the truth is, bullying comes in all shapes and sizes; it can literally happen to anyone. This slam poem about bullying is about a story about something happened to me in my own life while I was in my 20's, something I hardly realized was bullying at the time. Then when I recalled the event, I remembered other instances of bullying, one in particular, and tied them in.
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