---

 

enjoy this writing in the 6" x 9" 2015 ISBN# paperback book the Chosen Few Click on the cover or any linked text to get a copy of the Chosen Few			Enjoy this 2015 Chicago open mic book as a snapshot of writings read on stage by assorted Chicago open mic writers as performed in shows from 2012-2015 at “the Café Gallery” open mic as a 6"x9" perfect-bound paperback ISBN# book!

Advice to the Poet
from the Sunday Slam Audience at the Green Mill

Robert Lawrence

Dear Bob,

Don’t bore me.
I didn’t pay six bucks cover
to come here and snooze.

I’m here for literary Jolt Cola
raised to the e=mc2 power.
I want exploding scoreboards,
drum thumping, boob bouncing parades.
I want to see the Fourth of July humping New Year’s Eve.
I want to view the entire adult population
hooked up to Orgasmitron machines,
each machine topped by wires
with writhing sparks bzzzzst—
a cinemascopic landscape of electric pleasure
where nation makes peace with nation
and war is forever rendered
an archaic cussword.
Yeah.

Frazzle me, dazzle me
Hustle me, nuzzle me,
Stun me with a pun
Wow me with a noun,
Make me frown
Hose me down,
But don’t confuse me
with obscurity,
’cause when you suss the drift and I don’t,
that sucks.

Erotic stuff is O K,
but put a clamp on the bodily fluids,
and can the anatomy lesson—
I already know what part is what—
Bob, you better know your part—
your role.
[Poet removes sesame bagel from pocket]
No, not sesame or pumpernickel—
You’re not in line at Einstein bagel.
You’re on stage—
act for God’s sake:

Wear a mask,
do a dance
take a stance
hoist a lance and
joust with corporate greedaholics—
tell ‘em let’s make U.S. Number One
in health and welfare
instead of wealth and warfare
and per-capita mur-der.

Stay tough till the end;
don’t weaken or waver.
Make my deepest dreams
soar in exhaltation.
Rocket my imagination
so I want to leap up
on stage with you.
Side by side,
WordAxes in hand,
we’ll crash the doors of perpection,
and trash whatever stops us
from living in the perfection
of true freedom—
This isn’t just poetry, baby—
It’s per-for-mance.

One last request:
Tomorrow is mundane Monday:
venomous alarm clock,
blank faces at train stops.
Thoreau said 90% of us
live our lives
in quiet desperation.
Touch me, poet.
Make me believe Thoreau was wrong.
Make me feel my life is strong.
Make my world resonate with wonder.
Help me discover the poetic thunder
within me.

Sincerely,
Your Audience

Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.

Problems with this page? Then deal with it...