Like ghost, they tend to emerge from the dark
Dark shadows of the stage, that is until the spotlight comes on
And all fear subsides, anticipation swallowed up from the echo of a mic
Words rolling off tongues like tumble weed
A quick feed from the audience with feets rumbling beneath the floor
Sounds like open mic night, Nuyorican, Urban Word
This is how we SLAM
On brisk nights in stuffy cafe's
Packed with ambitioners, lost souls, and raw talent
Places like this always amazed me or intimidated me, one
Spoken word is the evil twin of written work
Placing writers like myself between a rock and hardplace
For the first time, I feel forced to speak, rather than let my writing speak for me
As I watch these extra-terrestrial poets move with a rhythmical sway from left to right
Lifting their feet like horses
Lifting their hands like priests
They look towards the sky, as if they're looking for healing
I wonder what goes on in their mind when they're up there
On that stage, in front of that crowd
It's like they're in another dimension, stepping outside of themseleves
You can see them pull their skin off right in front of you
And all I can do is sit there
Stunned and amazed at the bravery and the skill of these poets
To take their most intimate journal entries,
And scream it to the world
What brought me here? I'll never understand
I'll never understand, how some poets are just So Damn Good