The way it read, “Poetry Slam”, made it sound so violent
I liked to think the artistic community was more refined
than the MMA fighters slamming each other with folding chairs
whilst appropriately dressed fans watched in awe.
It was only when I saw the words flying through the air
like sweating, muscular men in glorified bikinis;
When I saw commas and colons being hurled about
like a disposable folding chair atop a challenger’s head;
When I saw the conflicting themes, messages, and styles
slamming together onstage,
whilst appropriately dresses fans watched in awe,
That I understood how appropriate the term
“Slam” really is for poetry competition.