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Freedom To Speak: National Poetry Slam Anthology's Journal
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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Freedom To Speak: National Poetry Slam Anthology's LiveJournal:

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Tuesday, April 10th, 2007
1:18 pm
Get Your Poetry Played on the Radio
Hey all, I host a radio show that broadcasts to Sacramento and the greater Sacramento area. If you send me your material and it is good, I will play it. You can send me mp3s online or send demos to:

KDVS [Attn: Giorgio]
14 Lower Freeborn Hall
c/o UC Davis
Davis, CA 95616
Friday, December 15th, 2006
10:39 am
Off we go a'travelling!
Well folks, in less than two hours I'll be on a train to Hollywood to go rep St Pete across Miami this weekend. Wish me luck; hopefully I won't be kidnapped and sold into slavery!

Anyone in South Florida this weekend should feel free to come check me out featuring at these spots:

Friday - Wallflower Gallery
Saturday afternoon - Miami Beach Civic Center
Saturday night - The Penthouse on South Beach

I will see y'all again on Wednesday when we have Project I.T. back up to The Lobby featuring South FL's talent for your listening/viewing enjoyment.

Now, off I go to make sure I have enough cigarettes to last my chain-smoking ass, fill up my hip flask and hit the train station!
Friday, November 3rd, 2006
10:04 am
Well, I'm new to this community, but not new to slam. I've been in about three or so of them, and enjoyed them all thoroughly. Though I prefer group slams to individual ones. What's wonderful, is our Slam team is the pioneer group in our school, so hopefully we can be sent overseas (chicago! take us to chicago!) later on.
Saturday, September 17th, 2005
11:18 pm
I'm looking for some random thoughts on this. I'll share my view with those who care to read feedback from everyone here in the comments.

I was on myspace earlier, and I saw that there was a chain letter going around. In extremely "whiney preteen" elementary speech, it went about like:


A significant amount of my friends not only posted this again, but signed it. There were over 500 signiatures by the time I read it.

Thoughts? I want to really know what's in your head, so don't do or say anything that would put you in the "politically correct" category, if it really doesn't describe what's in your mind.
Saturday, September 3rd, 2005
1:54 am
Hey, I'm torn on whether or not I like this. It's more meant to be spoken, if that helps. Any form of feedback would be greatly appreciated.

Love is blind
are the people
who are hoping to find
yourself a husband,
find yourself a rhyme
is important
when you're taking your time
is a healer
of unavoidable loss
of a vision
deprivation of a cause
for seclusion
well lets have a resolution
resolution of the cause
resolution of the loss
or better yet a revolution
where you still will take your time
and don't need to find a rhyme
because this crowd is the sublime
of grace in independency.
Thursday, June 16th, 2005
12:12 am
hey folks. i just got into slam today and decided to write one of my own...i only have the text and i know so much of slam is performance but i was wondering if i posted it here if i could get some critique/feedback. thanks
Thursday, June 9th, 2005
8:50 pm
Wednesday, March 30th, 2005
2:57 pm
Check out
the work of Chris Vannoy. Anyone got any San Francisco slam info?
Sunday, March 13th, 2005
6:37 pm
Friday, February 18th, 2005
12:30 pm
I need something to hold onto,

For so long
We waited.
I thought,
Beyond a shadow
Of a shadow
Of a doubt,
That there was reason
To believe.

Tonight I find myself.
Soaking cinnamon bark
Into vodka,
Slipping meaning into my drink,
Begging her
To just let go.

She never hears me.
Never did,
Never will.

This is the…
In twenty days
We both will have risen.
(There is something deeper to this,
Though I am missing the meaning.)
Pouring down
That last
She screams,
Believing she is deep.
I would tell her,
And push her back to sleep.
In such delirium
We can believe anything.
There is an opiate hidden among the flowers.
You just have to search.

I would kiss her,
7:18 on Sunday morning.
Creep downstairs,
Never waking the family.
Slip out before they wake.
“Brooklyn Sundays are so crisp,
Before the world wakes,
Sleepy and stumbling home.”
I loved the F-train.
And I cried every time
I boarded it north.

I want to be the one
Whose toes you kiss.
Though I would never have let you,

I am living off a memory.
I am living in a dream.
Or at least,
I am trying to.

Tonight, cinnamon barks
And sugar cubes,
Breaking meaning
From the lips
Of an undeserving lover.
Friday, December 3rd, 2004
12:43 am
(Please let me know if this post isn't welcome here; I'll remove it at once.)

I've created a community that's intended to act as a virtual poetry slam. Rather than simply submitting poetry, poets are encouraged to post audio recordings. It's the next best thing to reading at a slam, plus you'll wind up with constructive criticism to better your performance for next time.

Please swing by and take a look...


-crossposted all over-
Tuesday, November 23rd, 2004
7:39 pm
Hey people, I'm new to the community. I've been experimenting with slam poetry for a little bit and I want to interact with some people who have been doing it too.

This piece seems kinda long, but I think it reads pretty fast.

Scientific Infatuation

At half past seven,
I find myself wondering.........
I ask you
“Where are we going?”
All you do is smile.
That smile of yours.
The one answer that leaves me tongue-tied.
Robs me of all the words that would normally be at my disposal,
and puts all my arguments,
all my ifs, ands, and buts to rest.
Leaving me,
But even so,
helpless as I am,
I’m still happy.

I step back.
I take a breath.
I find my words again,
and I ask you
“What is this?”
Explain it to me.
Explain to me why I’m always in a rush, when I really have no place to go.
But then, in your presence, I can have the most important things in the world to do, and not even care.

And then,
that’s when I
To high school.
Physics class.
Gently rocked into slumber by the lullaby
E = MC…......
MC some shit!!
I don’t know!!!!
Who the fuck cares!!!!!

I’m asleep.
And as I sleep,
bits and pieces of
scientific jargon,
and quantum bullshit,
that I think I’ll never use
softly drift into my brain,
and unbeknownst to me,
decide to stay.

And those bits and pieces
decide that now is the time to make themselves known.
Because out of nowhere,
my physics teacher’s voice rings out.
So clearly that,
for a moment,
I feel like I’m 16 again.
I hear it,
and it says,
“Every phenomenon in the universe, be it natural or man-made, is the direct result of cause and effect.”

Cause and Effect.

That’s what it is.
A playful smile on your lips,
causes me
to see
My large hands resting on your soft hips
causes you
This interaction,
has the effect
of stopping time.
Freezing motion.
Holding us in place.
So that

Physics class again.
“Every action has an equal and opposite RE-action.”
We lock eyes on the elevator.
We’re both on our way to the same class.
You smile gently.
Toss your head to the side.
The beads in your braids rattle.
Like the laughter of small children.
“Every action has a re-action.”
So I react to the sound by saying “Hello.”
You react to me by saying “Hi.”
I react to your response by asking “How are you?”
You react by answering “Fine, and you?”
I react by saying “Better........now.’’
The ball is rolling.......
When will it stop?
I don’t know.
I don’t really want it too.......

Physics class again.
“Energy is neither lost nor destroyed, only transferred.”
You speak my name,
and the energy your voice creates makes beads of sweat percolate to the surface of my brow.
As speak to me,
Warm breath passes my throat,
and the energies it carries makes the hairs on the nape of my neck to stand at attention.
You rest your hand on mine.
Your fingers pulsate with energy that transfers to me.
Excited nerve endings
release waves of electricity
that ripple across the surface of my skin.

I pull my hand away from yours.
I’m afraid,
I don’t want you to get shocked.

These sensations that you cause in me have the effect of sweet pollen on bees,
candy on small children.
The energy that you impart
manifests itself in everything I am.
The soft,
yet unforgiving grasp you hold over me.
The quiet whisper in my ear that I can’t explain.
And all of it
is explained,
more or less,
through shit I didn’t even know I learned
in my high school physics class,
and that’s funny to me,
because as it turns out........
is one class
that I

Feedback would really be appreciated. Thanx.
Monday, June 28th, 2004
12:15 pm
National Poetry Slam in St. Louis
I'm planning on taking in my first Nationals ever with a group of friends but we are all pretty intent on not breaking the bank in order to do so. There are three of us who will be traveling down from Southern MN. If anyone has any advice on monetary short cuts we could take it would be more than helpful. I've also heard that volunteering is a great way to make the most of the week, any thoughts on this from veterans of this competition? Much love to all.
Tuesday, May 25th, 2004
2:31 pm
Look at her shoes
They're really funky
Damn, that bitch
Looks like a monkey
Cant stand her ass
For more than a second
Everything I'm sayin
Yeah I meant it
NOw I'm gonna diss
That fucking hoochie
Whos got fleas
Up in her coochie
Damn, that slut
Needs to dress better
Looks like her mom
Has never fed her!

*-*-*-Please Comment! I'm new and I wanna know what you think of my poems!-*-*-*
Wednesday, October 29th, 2003
12:39 pm
Freedom Fries – The American Dream
Independence Day, and again I’m asking the impending question:
What does this independence mean?
Because the colors of my flag are not red white and – blue
And my allegiance does not lie with – you.

Independence Day and sparks are flying
While millions of white, middle class families look to the sky
For security?
I’m looking to the ground for something more.

But this soil is used and abused
And the cattle don’t graze here anymore.
They live crammed in boxes
In torn down forests
Lined up for slaughter
Packaged under cellophane and fed to the American children
Through slurpy straws at old McDonalds,
Who once had a farm
But now just owns a slice of corporate America.

And left to search out the horizon,
Yet finding nothing,
I’m depending on myself
Seeing her handwriting written in blood red across these turquoise walls,
Fading into the paint
As I scream and break through this mold
I’m locked inside
Inside this dream
That turned out to be a nightmare
And now my nights are filled
With images of bombs and bloody babies
And if this is what independence means
Than I’d rather show my brilliance
In the colors of aqua, maroon, and sienna

Because this “American Dream” is drenched in deceit
And im sitting back starring
At an American flag
flying from every car window
Screaming the French fry flavored fallacy this country is inhaling
--or wait. Sorry was that “Freedom Fries”?
Because this freedom is just a disguise
And I’m uncovering my own guilt
On the hilt of an American sword
Which is cutting the throats of kids just because they look like sinners
While fundamentalisms
Force my sisters into poverty,
Billboards still promote pictures
Of happy, whole, white families
In cute blue cars
Driving down the American frontier
With a red sunset to their backs
While corporate executives run every election
And CEO’s are filling up her nose with a new brand of addiction
Im fighting back the only way I know how,
Which is not much, and wont really get me much of anywhere,
Because this freedom of speech
Only applies if your speech is written for the ears
Of the American Aristocracy

But hey, all im asking for, is a little more
Because I swear I do this every day
And now Im just waiting for someone to turn, hear me screaming
Still knowing nothing could be loud enough to drown out the president’s loud speaker
Not even the screams of millions of dying families across the world
Im searching out the crowd
For one single face that’s looking this way
Friday, October 3rd, 2003
9:14 am
It was Robert Palmer !!!

New dead pool ---

who will be the next famous person under 60 years old
to drop dead? place your guesses
Monday, September 15th, 2003
12:46 am
People dying has always hit me. People I know, people I know of. Princess Di, Buddy Hackett, Gregory Hienes, Johnny Cash, John Ritter, all of them any of them. Wow. Someone's alive, then they aren't. Every time it happens I think, shit.

So who's next?

Care to make a guess?

Angela Lansbury I think.
George Bush Sr.
Dick Van Dyke
Dick Van Pattan (or is he dead already)

But they are old, that's pretty easy.

How about young and healthy and shit.
Come on all you morbid freaks out there.
Not who do you want to die, who do you think will be next?
The next BLAM! car crash, or drug OD or bullet in the head...

One of the Olson Twins
Brittany Spears
Margaret Cho
Leonardo DiCaprio

Hey, how about Tom Hanks. That fucker's had a better career than he ever deserved. Why bother seeing him grow old?
Saturday, September 13th, 2003
6:43 pm
Anyone still read this?

Johhny Cash is dead.

Is that ok with all of you?

I think it bites.
Wednesday, August 13th, 2003
5:43 am
Another Rant - They've got money. WHO CARES?!
OK Before I go back to my homework I've got one more bone to pick. It doesn't happen often but when it does I get pissed off. I am a student. I go to school full time, I'm looking for a job, and until I find one my Mom is helping me out. My school has always been taken care of by my Mom and dad, however I no longer am willing to accept my dad's money.

My dad is very rich. He's (as of last January anyway) on his second Ferrari, and if he doesn't drive that, he has a choice between a Mercedes, a Jaguar, and a Lexus to drive to work in the morning. He and my step Mom just a built a brand new, state of the art 10,000 square foot house on the water front of Lake Washington. Last I checked there were 4 boats in the dock in the front of the house, and they've acceded above the old fashioned "Hey so and so, telephone!" to paging around the house on an intercom to inform people when they have guests or phone calls.

Ay know what? None of that stuff means anything, because there isn't a single person in that house that is living happily. I lived there from the end of the summer before my 5th grade year, until I was 20. Ya know what else? My standard of living was reduced to survival instinct! I was afraid of my father's wrath! We didn't have a close family like any of the other people I knew did. Even some of them didn't think they had good families, but at least they'd admit to not being afraid of getting their heads slammed through a wall or being told on a daily basis that they were failures, disgraces, or all around losers.

There's more to it than that, but I don't need to elaborate for my purposes here. If you've got a beef about me being born to a family that's got a 7 or 8 figure income DEAL WITH IT! I paid my prince, it cost me my fucking childhood! It cost me the all the social knowledge that I should have right now, but instead I'm struggling to learn!

If I'm a spoiled rich wealthy brat, then tell me why I refuse to extend myself to make with that bastard of a father I have? Tell me why when I had the opportunity for them to build me my own apartment on top of their house free of charge, pay for all schooling and living expenses, I REJECTED it!

There's more in this world than money. Being born at the top of the economic later has enabled me to see what most people never will. These people, your "superiors," the power players in society live their lives telling you that they are better than you, and damn it if your actions don't say that you agree! Don't you all get it? When you're looking down from a position of wealth and power, everyone is a pawn. There's no humanity left in you and your dead to the world in which you've striven to succeed in.

There is NOT a price that can be placed on my soul, my SPIRIT can NOT be BOUGHT! To hell with their diamonds, monster sized house, and luxury vechicals! It's a house full of walking corpses that don 't know their dead yet. I survived by looking like them, or at least detaching myself from normal human wants and desires for the time being. I did what I had to. I lived in a box with the shades closed and only what I thought could not be forcibly taken from me (yes, even I was a pawn -- even their own damn children! ). My role was to make them feel like they had control.

I've distanced myself now. I'm wounded, and have been shaped by experience, but I am not a corpse!

If you weren't born to luxury, that's fine. If there are things that are difficult due to finance that's fine too. Stop bitching about it. You have a soul. Be thankful for that. If you want to be like them, start viewing everyone you meet as an object. Go for it, I dare you.

If you just want to get through school, why don't you take half the time you spend bitching at me, and start researching education assistance programs! Jesus! I used them and I'm a "rich kid." You can do the same! I happen to know that you can get at least $2, 000 per quarter per school year from the government if you're not being claimed dependent in mere grants! If you want your school bad, write some fucking essays and work on some scholarships! There are thousands of them out there. If you can write a decent term paper, then you can do on e of these.

I swear, some people just like to feel sorry for themselves. I know this feeling, but I don't have to like it. Open yourself. There's ALWAYS a way, bitterness gets you no where. Ironically many of the "successful" people that you're living in the shadows of will tell you the same thing.

Current Mood: annoyed
Tuesday, August 5th, 2003
8:46 pm
hi im new.....are people her nice cuz im usally very shy with my porty and i dont want to get fucked with....
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