Tag: Slam poetry

Read Slam Poetry written by slam poets, cowboy poets, and literary giants inspired by the state of Arizona!

David Tabor

April 10, 2025

David Tabor: Analog Artist, Photographer, and Arizona Poet

A Creative Rooted in Arizona’s Poetry and Art Scene

David Tabor is a multidisciplinary artist whose creative journey blends poetry, photography, and performance. Based in Arizona, Tabor made his early mark in the local poetry slam community, creating zines that featured his work and the work of fellow poets. His passion for the written word evolved alongside his deep love of visual storytelling—capturing life through analog photography and hand-crafted zines.

Poetry Slam Veteran and DIY Publisher

Tabor was an active voice in Phoenix’s spoken word scene, performing and producing zines during the Essenza Coffee Shop days. His eye for aesthetics and reverence for authenticity gave rise to a body of work that valued intimacy, imperfection, and the handmade. Zines were often his publishing medium of choice, a perfect format for sharing raw, immediate poetic experiences with a grassroots audience.

A Return to Analog Photography

During the pandemic, Tabor returned to one of his earliest creative loves: analog photography. Drawing on skills he developed in the ’90s, he embraced traditional film, darkroom printing, and a slower, more contemplative process. In just a few years, he produced four photo zines and honed a distinctive style centered on “finding beauty in what’s already there.”

His photographic work often explores ordinary moments and overlooked textures of urban and natural spaces. Through zines and hand-printed darkroom pieces, Tabor invites audiences to experience stillness and see the poetry embedded in the everyday.

Collaboration and Connection

One of his proudest accomplishments is a collaborative photo book with artist Lisa Tang Liu. The project was a labor of love—combining visual artistry and editorial rigor, and pushing Tabor’s creative boundaries further than ever before.

Bells, Books, and Improvisation

When he’s not behind the camera, David Tabor works as a bell maker and staff photographer at Cosanti Originals in Paradise Valley, Arizona. The overlap of craftsmanship in both photography and bronze casting has become part of his artistic ethos—use the tools at hand, trust the process, and let the work speak for itself.

A man of many talents, Tabor is also an ordained minister. He once performed spontaneous wedding ceremonies during “7 Minutes in Heaven,” a beloved performance series at Phoenix’s Space 55 Theater.

The Perspective of Time

Tabor attributes much of his recent success to personal growth and perspective. Once deterred by self-doubt, he’s come to embrace failure as a stepping stone in the creative process. Whether through poetry, photography, or zines, David Tabor continues to explore new frontiers while remaining rooted in authenticity and intention.

Ain't I An American by Jeremiah Blue Poem AZpoetry.com

And Ain’t I An American by Jeremiah Blue

April 10, 2025

“And Ain’t I An American” by Jeremiah Blue

I do appreciate the eagle
but not enough to call it American
and tattoo it on my arm with banners
of “God Bless the USA”

Because I am hoping that the US will be
just one amongst others blessed by God

And ain’t I an American?

I am trying to free Tibet with the bumper of my car
rather than replacing it with an American flag

I think that free-trade zones aren’t often all that free

I wrote a poem about my national pride
and it didn’t say anything about keeping the Mexicans out

Being a small minority of the world’s population
while consuming nearly half its resources
sounds like a comfortable enough position
to not be all that well threatened by immigrants
sending paychecks home to impoverished families

And ain’t I an American?

I took classes in non-violent resistance
rather than studying my enemy for weaknesses
because ‘fighting for peace’ is like
‘fucking for virginity’
Sounds like a pretty reasonable argument to me?

And ain’t I an American?

Fox: not my primary source of news.

Reality TV doesn’t look anything like my reality.

I left my Top Gun jacket and mullet
in the era they came our and perished in

I am drinking Guinness over Bud Light every time

I prefer salsa and flamenco to Garth Brooks

I think hot dogs are immoral

and I haven’t been to a baseball game
since Baby Ruth named its candy bar after that one guy

And ain’t I an American?

I don’t think you need to be a lesbian
or a woman that is mad to be a feminist

I feel it is a more productive move away from institutionalized racism
to not fill our prisons with a majority of our black and brown men

I am starting to think that it has been just a little too long
since we have had a non-male or non-religious president

There are times when the thought crosses my mind
that the American Dream is just something
that those who have been handed it
dreamed up to keep
everyone else dreamin’

And America does not, at all times,
make me proud to be an American

And ain’t I an American?

About the poet Jeremiah Blue

Exploring National Identity in Jeremiah Blue’s “And Ain’t I An American”

Jeremiah Blue’s poem “And Ain’t I An American”, originally published in 2012, offers a thought-provoking examination of American identity, challenging conventional symbols and notions of patriotism. Through a series of introspective reflections, Blue invites readers to reconsider what it truly means to be an American in today’s diverse society.

Summary of “And Ain’t I An American”

The poem begins with the speaker acknowledging traditional emblems of American patriotism, such as the eagle and the phrase “God Bless the USA.” However, the speaker expresses a desire for inclusivity, hoping that divine blessings extend beyond the United States to encompass all nations. This sentiment sets the tone for the poem’s exploration of broader, more inclusive definitions of national pride.

Throughout the poem, the speaker reflects on various personal choices and beliefs that diverge from mainstream American norms:

Opting for a “Free Tibet” bumper sticker over an American flag decal.
Questioning the fairness of free-trade zones.
Writing about national pride without advocating for restrictive immigration policies.
Highlighting the disproportionate consumption of global resources by a small segment of the world’s population.
Choosing non-violent resistance over aggressive tactics.
Expressing skepticism toward mainstream media and reality television.
Preferring cultural elements from other countries, such as Guinness over Bud Light and salsa over country music.

The poem culminates with the speaker contemplating systemic issues within American society, including institutionalized racism, gender inequality in political leadership, and the elusive nature of the American Dream. Despite these critiques, the recurring refrain, “And ain’t I an American?” underscores the speaker’s assertion of their American identity, suggesting that questioning and critical reflection are integral components of true patriotism.

Analysis of Themes and Techniques

Jeremiah Blue employs several literary devices to convey the poem’s central themes:

Refrain: The repeated question, “And ain’t I an American?” serves as a powerful refrain, emphasizing the speaker’s challenge to narrow definitions of American identity and highlighting the diversity of experiences and beliefs that constitute the nation.
Irony and Satire: By juxtaposing traditional symbols of patriotism with personal choices that deviate from the norm, the poem utilizes irony to question the authenticity of conventional expressions of national pride.
Cultural Critique: The poem addresses various societal issues, including consumerism, media influence, systemic racism, and gender inequality, prompting readers to reflect on the complexities and contradictions inherent in American society.
Personal Reflection: Through the speaker’s candid sharing of personal preferences and beliefs, the poem underscores the importance of individual agency in defining one’s own sense of patriotism and belonging.

Overall, “And Ain’t I An American” invites readers to engage in a nuanced exploration of national identity, encouraging a more inclusive and critical understanding of what it means to be American.

Discover More About Jeremiah Blue

To learn more about Jeremiah Blue’s work and contributions to contemporary poetry, visit his poet bio page on AZpoetry.com.

Hang On To Your Chairs Ass Bomb poem by Bill Campana AZpoetry.com

Hang On To Your Chairs (Ass Bomb) by Bill Campana

April 9, 2025

“Hang On To Your Chairs (Ass Bomb)” by Bill Campana

Hang on to your chairs, I’m going back to school.

I’m getting my degree, a doctorate in science.
I’m going to MIT to study mathematics, quantum mechanics, nuclear physics
and whatever else it takes to get me to achieve my goal.

Because I am going to invent a bomb
a bomb that will shame all other bombs
I’m going to invent a bomb that will kill no one,
but will wipe everybody on their ass
right off your feet
flat on your ass
and then I am going to fire up another one
just in case I might have missed some people
who were sitting at the time
and then had gotten up just to investigate the commotion.

All over the world, on the appointed day
phones will ring.
The people calling will say,
“I fell on my ass at 10 o’clock this morning.”
and the people they are speaking with will reply,
“That’s funny… so did I…”

Newspapers will print enormous headlines:

AND THEN WE ALL FALL DOWN

DEATH TOLL ZERO AS WORLD FALLS ON ITS’ ASS

BILL UNLEASHES WEAPON OF ASS DESTRUCTION

I will show you,
that you can have a sense of humor,
that mass destruction just ain’t where it’s at.

Not terrorism, but performance terrorism.

So like that bomb the Soviet Union
dropped on us in the mid-sixties,
that bomb that made everybody want to say
the word “fuck”
freely
in public
forever.

Man, that was fucked up.

But when I walk down the street
with my silver squared
and my beard held high
people will say, “there goes Bill.
He invented the Ass Bomb.
He’s really not such a bad guy.”

I can see it now.
I will become Time Magazine’s “Ass of the Year”.
I will win the Nobel Prize for Ass
and with my winnings,
support an network of underground ass-droppers.
Getting through airport security
will be as easy as dropping trow.

And you will thank me.
Someday, you will ALL thank me,
from the bottom of your bottoms,
for being making global terrorism silly
and ground zero cleanup
nothing more than dusting off your pants.

So, hang on to your chairs.

I don’t know how I’m going to do this.
But, I’ll never find out
until I get up off my ass
and try.

Transcribed from “Hang On To Your Chairs (Ass Bomb) from The Hit List 2 by Bill Campana.

Listen to the poem “Hang On To Your Chairs (Ass Bomb)” from the spoken word album The Hit List 2 by Bill Campana.

About the poet Bill Campana

Summary and Analysis of “Hang On To Your Chairs (Ass Bomb)” by Bill Campana

Bill Campana’s poem “Hang On To Your Chairs (Ass Bomb)” is a wild, irreverent ride through performance poetry and political satire, packed with wit, absurdity, and a surprising undercurrent of hope. With his trademark humor and grounded delivery, Campana envisions a world-changing invention—not a bomb of destruction, but one of disruption. This imagined “Ass Bomb” doesn’t kill or harm. Instead, it knocks everyone flat on their backsides—an act that, in the poet’s vision, serves to unite, disarm, and humble humanity in one shared, absurd experience.

Summary

In this hilarious and sharply satirical piece, the speaker declares his intention to go back to school and study complex sciences—quantum mechanics, nuclear physics, and mathematics—not to build a weapon of mass destruction, but a weapon of “ass destruction.” This bomb won’t maim or kill; it will simply knock everyone off their feet. Whether standing, sitting, walking, or talking on the phone, people around the world will fall to the ground in synchronized, undignified unison.

The poet imagines global headlines reacting to this act of performance terrorism:

“AND THEN WE ALL FALL DOWN”
“DEATH TOLL ZERO AS WORLD FALLS ON ITS’ ASS”
“BILL UNLEASHES WEAPON OF ASS DESTRUCTION”

The piece swerves between the ridiculous and the reflective, revealing the poet’s wish for a gentler, funnier kind of revolution—one that uses laughter instead of violence. He points to a cultural shift in the 1960s where, in his words, “that bomb that made everybody want to say the word ‘fuck’ freely in public forever” broke down barriers of censorship. Now, his own imagined bomb would break down political and ideological barriers with comedy, reminding people that “mass destruction just ain’t where it’s at.”

By the end, the poem circles back to a personal call to action. The speaker doesn’t yet know how he’ll accomplish this dream, but one thing is certain: he has to get up off his ass and try.

Analysis

Campana masterfully uses humor to critique our obsession with violence, weaponry, and the spectacle of destruction. By flipping the traditional function of a bomb—from devastation to harmless absurdity—he challenges societal norms around power and conflict resolution. His “Ass Bomb” becomes a metaphor for a unifying jolt, an equalizer that reminds everyone—world leaders, ordinary citizens, and even the poet himself—that we all fall down sometimes.

This poem is classic Bill Campana: irreverent, self-aware, deeply human, and delivered with a wink and a truth bomb. The poem functions not just as a performance piece, but also as a vision for an alternative kind of power—one that doesn’t rely on fear but on humility, connection, and shared laughter.

It’s also a subtle commentary on agency and action. As the poem ends with,

“I don’t know how I’m going to do this. / But I’ll never find out / until I get up off my ass / and try.”

Campana speaks not just of his fictitious invention, but of the creative act itself—the need to rise and create, even if you don’t have the blueprint yet.

➡️ Ready to experience more of Bill Campana’s bold, boundary-pushing poetry?
Visit his poet bio page on AZPoetry.com and discover why he’s considered one of the most iconic voices in Arizona’s spoken word scene.

Fine White Powder by Naughty A. Mouse

April 7, 2025

“Fine White Powder” by Naughty A. Mouse

sugar is a fine white powder let me say
that a little louder sugar is a fine
white powder let me say that a little
louder sugar is a fine white powder and
just like crack and smack it’s all
wrapped up in money and power see Coke
comes from leaves and opium from flowers
but the granddaddy of the fine white
powders is made from beets and Cane
people hear the word drugs they usually
think of gangs they think of
cold-blooded Killers with Latin last
names selling PCP LSD and Mary Jane are
moving Mac ecstasy and crack cocaine
people hear the word drugs they think
shackles jails and chains they think
suffering and pain they think Blood
Money backstabbing and innocent slain
but there is no such stigma attached to
sugar cane yeah there ain’t no shame
affix to the sticks of even little kids
get lit they sit and take hits
off of their pixie sticks getting ripped
and no one sees a problem with this
because this is a fix that we all crave
and we are not ashamed although we know
it was built on the backs of black
slaves so I tell y’all sugar is a fine
white powder and I want it to ring in
your brains a little bit louder because
its story is the same as what’s shot in
the veins a shot up the nose to get
straight at the brain I’m talking Blood
Money backstabbing innocent slain I’m
talking suffering and pain shackles
jails and chains headlessness remembered
remains Little Women and Children
backing up the product and Counting out
the change and The Killers deranged who
ran the whole game and who teach kids to
kill for material gain the saddest thing
about it is all of these facts are
already in your brain they’ve just been
sanitized like blood stains washed down
shower drains so only the cold and
boring facts remain
you all sat in little rows frustrated
but so well trained and normalized this
[ __ ] with the phrase triangle trade
sugar for rum for slaves Europeans ruled
the waves and got money in power off a
little grains of white powder so I’m
asking y’all help me make this louder
sugar is a fine white powder come on
y’all louder sugar is a fine white
powder come on y’all louder sugar is the
fine white powder come on y’all louder
the foundation of our nation the
independence Declaration was sung by
kingpins who ran drug plantations so
fast forward just a few generations to
the days when radio stations still sing
the Praises of criminal organizations
but the biggest drug dealers are legally
chartered corporations and on both sides
of the law it’s all about location
location
it doesn’t matter if the battles are
fought in courts over end caps instead
of blocks or if the people that pack the
gats are called cops it’s still cash
crops to define the line between the
hives and the have-nots and I think
we’re all just too high on sugar to call
them crimes when they’re committed by
the Criminal Minds on top so I came out
to tell y’all that sugar is a fine white
powder and I’m asking you spread the
word because knowledge is power

Transcribed from the video Fine White Powder by Ghost Poetry Show and Naughty A Mouse.

Watch the Video “Fine White Powder” by Naughty A Mouse on YouTube

About the poet Naughty A Mouse

Naughty A Mouse’s powerful spoken word poem “Fine White Powder” is a lyrical indictment of sugar—yes, sugar—as a historically overlooked but deeply entwined player in the legacy of colonialism, slavery, capitalism, and addiction. Delivered with rhythmic urgency and a call-and-response refrain—“sugar is a fine white powder”—this poem blurs the lines between drug culture, economic power structures, and normalized consumption, ultimately inviting readers to reconsider the social and historical contexts of everyday commodities.

Summary

At its surface, “Fine White Powder” compares sugar to illegal drugs like crack, smack (heroin), cocaine, and ecstasy. But this isn’t just a metaphor for sweetness and dependency—the poem traces sugar’s origins as a commodity rooted in slavery, colonialism, and racial exploitation.

Naughty A Mouse challenges the audience to recognize how sugar—like narcotics—is a fine white substance entangled in systems of money and power. He critiques how society vilifies some drugs while ignoring others that share similar histories of violence and control, especially when profit motives sanitize or legitimize their use.

Children “take hits / off of their pixie sticks” and society sees no problem, but the poet points out the dark legacy behind the treat: “built on the backs of black slaves.” The speaker makes a strong case for sugar as the original addictive substance of empire, tied directly to the transatlantic slave trade—”sugar for rum for slaves.” He links this to modern corporate and legal institutions that profit from “drug-like” products, drawing attention to the hypocrisy of how some harmful industries are socially accepted or legally protected.

Analysis

“Fine White Powder” is more than a history lesson—it’s an urgent political poem, calling for deeper awareness of systemic injustice. Naughty A Mouse’s use of repetition (“sugar is a fine white powder”) becomes a chant, a rallying cry, and an indictment. The rhythm mirrors spoken word and hip-hop influences, pushing the message past poetic beauty into the realm of protest art.

The poet subverts the idea of what a “drug” is, taking it out of alleyways and placing it on the kitchen table, in the classroom, and on supermarket shelves. He draws attention to the way society separates “legal” and “illegal” substances not by harm but by who profits from them. The “location, location” line points to how geography, race, and class determine what is considered criminal versus what is considered commerce.

Lines like “the foundation of our nation… was sung by kingpins who ran drug plantations” push the reader to reevaluate sanitized historical narratives, including the American Revolution, and recognize their economic foundations in slavery and drug-like agriculture. This is a poem of unmasking and recontextualization—pushing listeners to see the institutional legacy of sugar and question what they’ve been taught.

Call to Action

By the end, the poet isn’t just making a point—he’s building a movement. He directly addresses the audience, asking them to join in spreading awareness:

“I came out to tell y’all that sugar is a fine white powder / and I’m asking you spread the word because knowledge is power.”

In doing so, Naughty A Mouse merges art and activism, using poetic storytelling to unveil how oppression hides in plain sight—in something as seemingly innocent as a spoonful of sugar.

➡️ Learn more about Naughty A Mouse and explore his poet bio page on AZPoetry.com

56 by Robert FlipSide Daniels

March 28, 2025

“56” by Robert FlipSide Daniels

there is a fine line between
heroism
and martyrdom and on march 3rd 1991
i watched a man nearly cross it swing
56 blows led to this king’s ransom swing
56 blows set off a chain of events some
still have yet to recover from
swing swing rodney’s life and
construction helps us understand why
building bridges of compassion was more
important
than his destructive past swing swing
swing taser this is 56 times i watched
in horror
not believing what was clear as glass in
front of my
barely 18 year old eyes swing
my mind muddied by my belief that this
is unbelievable
is this a nightmare wake up this is
happening
swing swing he was a big man he must
have deserved it
swing swing swing kick driving way too
fast for much too long swing really
rodney
100 miles per hour in a hyundai
swing he had two passengers and too much
to drink
swing swing allegedly two drugs course
through his veins
swing swing swing perhaps he was too
black
or too big in black to deserve dignity
swing
too slow to pull over too intoxicated to
realize he was being
beaten swing swing i can only imagine
what george holliday was thinking as he
recorded this historic moment
swing swing swing kick a moment that
changed my trust in who
upholds the law swing cube spoke to it
in his
fictionalized art gangsters can’t be
trusted so why should i believe these
[ _ ] with attitude swing swing
it’s hard to know what was said
but i would imagine a taser speaks volumes
swing swing swing five batons
constantly attracted to one fallen body
swing the racial slurs begin
led ironically by a man named [ _ ]
swing swing more firepower than an old
western saloon
swing swing swing kick so i guess we
should be happy they didn’t just shoot
him
swing though they did break his skull
and leg to show they mean business
swing swing truth is he was a criminal
on probation for armed robbery swing
swing swing
but did he deserve to have his criminal
mind concussed
in a savage beating swing by police
later acquitted of charges
swing swing judge declared the blow that
broke king’s leg
was not excessive swing swing
wait what hey [ __ ] stop moving
swing kick tasers they told him
not to move while hitting him repeatedly
swing
maybe he thought the police were trying
to kill him
swing swing but i’m sure action spoke
louder that night
swing hard to imagine it takes 56 baton
blows
six kicks and two tasers to subdue one
man
swing 30 years later
i’m still not over it swing
30 years later one question still
resonates
kick can’t we all just get along
you

Transcribed from the video “56” by Robert Flipside Daniels

Watch “56” by Robert FlipSide Daniels on YouTube

About the poet Robert FlipSide Daniels

In “56”, Robert FlipSide Daniels delivers a haunting and powerful reflection on the brutal beating of Rodney King at the hands of the LAPD on March 3, 1991. The poem’s title refers to the 56 baton blows that rained down on King’s body—a harrowing number that sets the tone for this piece, which is both an indictment of police brutality and a meditation on justice, race, and American history.

The repetitive “swing” motif acts as a relentless drumbeat, mirroring the vicious attack itself. Each “swing” serves as a visceral reminder of every hit, every act of dehumanization, and every moment of disbelief the poet felt as he witnessed this atrocity unfold at just 18 years old. The poem shifts between historical facts, societal commentary, and personal reflection, questioning not only the actions of law enforcement but also the system that allowed them to walk free.

FlipSide does not ignore King’s past—his criminal record, his intoxication, his reckless speeding—but he forces the reader to ask: Did any of that justify what happened to him? He juxtaposes Rodney King’s flaws with the sheer excessive force and racial injustice he suffered, highlighting how Blackness itself often becomes a justification for violence in America.

The poem also critiques the media’s portrayal and public reaction to the event. References to Ice Cube and N.W.A. emphasize the deep distrust in law enforcement that existed long before King’s beating, while the line about George Holliday, the man who recorded the attack, underscores the power of video evidence in exposing systemic abuse. And yet—even with undeniable footage—the officers were acquitted, leading to the 1992 Los Angeles Riots.

The final 30 years later refrain reminds us that the pain, trauma, and unanswered questions still linger. The poem ends with King’s own plea for unity—“Can’t we all just get along?”—a heartbreaking echo of a man who, despite being brutally beaten, still sought peace.

FlipSide’s “56” is not just a poem—it is a call to remember, to question, and to demand accountability. It serves as a chilling reminder that justice, even when caught on camera, is far from guaranteed.

To learn more about FlipSide’s poetry and powerful storytelling, visit his poet bio page here.

You Are Not What They Speak Of You poetry by Jason Lalli artwork

You Are Not What They Speak Of You by Jason Lalli

March 27, 2025

“You Are Not What They Speak Of You” by Jason Lalli

because you are not what they speak of you
like a tornado destroys a village
is how quickly it destroyed his spirit
Deja Vu with new faces
Asian by Heritage but a Collegiate
student in America with the thickness of
a twig his tall slender meat and Bone
cycle frame never seemed to get a warm
reception

his genius felt socially awkward
a confident computer nerd by stereotype
shy wants to keep to himself type of
demeanor don’t let this magician’s
illusion fool you
he wants to reach out
his giant heart yearns for connection
but social settings breathe life into
bullying nightmares as beautiful women
snap pictures to laugh about with their
friends while peers in groups distaste
we strip him of his dignity with insults
to his face it’s the pain of rejection
has become the erosion of
self-confidence

how can mental strength survive
if it’s the target always being shot as
not like a private affair
but the embarrassment of public
humiliation
insult bombs leave shots and negativity
in the walls of his mind and his soul
his heart transform the black empty
life loses luster after a person is
conditioned in such a man
when degrading persecution becomes
regular routine the Silver Lining is
lost for light when the eyes always see
Darkness no chance to hear truth when hateful
poison is all that is fat to be heard so
how can he feel alive if he’s imprisoned
by fear

like the scared pit bull confined by its
Leisure are we surprised to see snapping
teeth in defense yet we wonder why
suicide rates on a rapid incline why the
outcast lashes out violently towards
their fellow students as media rating
Skyrocket with no regard

I was Witness
as I watched his parents lifetime
Harvest demolished with one action
afraid of Confrontation there was no
acknowledgment as he stared at the floor
I can’t imagine his life being filled
with beautiful Scenic views of his gaze
is always fixed downwards
as a bystander we have a choice
to look away as he did afraid of
Confrontation or to become a participant
I chose to make a difference
my actions spoke with words of
encouragement as if to say
my friend
please take a moment to remove yourself
from this angst fill the breath of
oxygen invigorate life into your veins
hear how beautiful your mind and soul is
and always will be
see the light outlining beyond their
cloud of hatred

understand they’re unhappy with
themselves they laugh at you because
they want you to join them in their
misery you are not what they speak of
you you are the lights they wish to be
you are purity don’t let them taint your good nature

be strong
know that type of strength lies deep
within your core it’s there you have it
harness it’s power
there are wind blowing against your
unfazed Steel

you are not rock the world with time you
were ever evolving maturing beyond the
petty use this moment don’t let it use
you
lead is the opposite to the extreme and
treat everyone you meet with kindness
because know that once upon a time in a
different scenario and place
I
I was you
and I pray that today my actions prove
that you
can be me

Transcribed from the video “You Are Not What They Speak of You” by Jason Lalli and VulnerablyLalli.

Watch “You Are Not What They Speak Of You” by Jason Lalli on YouTube

About the poet Jason Lalli

Summary and Analysis of “You Are Not What They Speak Of You” by Jason Lalli

Jason Lalli’s poem “You Are Not What They Speak Of You” is a profound meditation on bullying, resilience, and self-worth. It tells the story of an Asian student studying in America, facing relentless social rejection and public humiliation. The poem paints a harrowing picture of how bullying erodes self-confidence, trapping its victims in a prison of fear and isolation.

The poem’s strength lies in its deep empathy. Lalli explores the emotional and psychological toll of bullying, likening it to a tornado that destroys a spirit in an instant. The student is portrayed as a misunderstood genius, a shy but big-hearted individual, yearning for connection yet repeatedly cast aside. The cruelty of his peers manifests in mockery, social exclusion, and outright insults, all of which build up, conditioning him to see the world through a lens of darkness.

Lalli masterfully shifts the poem’s tone from despair to empowerment. The speaker, who once endured similar torment, chooses to break the cycle—to uplift rather than ignore, to encourage rather than degrade. He urges the bullied student to see beyond the hatred, recognizing that cruelty often stems from the aggressors’ own pain and insecurity. The poem becomes a call to resilience, reminding the reader that self-worth is not defined by others’ opinions.

The final stanza is particularly powerful and transformative. The speaker declares that he was once in the victim’s position but has since risen above, proving that one can overcome and even surpass the pain inflicted by others. The poem becomes a beacon of hope, offering a message that is both timeless and universal: we are not what others say we are—we define ourselves.

To learn more about Jason Lalli’s poetry, spoken word performances, and advocacy for self-empowerment, visit his poet bio page here.

Ritchie Valens poem by Myrlin Hepworth AZpoetry.com

Ritchie Valens by Myrlin Hepworth

March 26, 2025

“Ritchie Valens” by Myrlin Hepworth

you were the child of R&B and jump Blues
flamingo guitar and Mariachi
Richard Valenzuela
they called you Ritchie said
Valenzuela was too much for a Gringo’s tongue
said it would taste bad in their mouths
if they said it so they cut your name
in half to Valens and you swallowed
that taste down stood tall like a bacho
and sign that contract
Rich was always about music
you felt it tumble inside your chest as a boy
playing a guitar with only two strings
and when your neighbor caught you
you thought he’d be angry over your racket
instead he helped you repair the
instrument and taught you how to grip it
correctly and you left-handed boy
playing a right-handed guitar repay him
by making the notes fly you could play
and sing at 17 you was signed at Del five
records of America, wanted to pass you
off as Italian, but you did not have old
blue eyes, no yours were young and brown,
brown like the dirt in the San Fernando
Valley, brown like the hands of your tias
who worked in the fields for
pennies, died inside Cantinas with broken
hearts, California’s hands were filled
with hate back then leading white and
brown master and slave and there you
were, in the midst of it all, young chicano
kid from the barrio, an American band stand
shredding guitar strings while Dick
Clark watched, I swear Ritchie, when I
listen I can hear it all
I can hear the screams from the zoot suit
riots, I can hear the young gringo
hipsters swarming you after a concert,
how you made them laugh and dance in
their ballrooms, the children sitting on
the bleachers of your middle school.
swaying to your rhythm and blues, the old
men in your neighborhoods watching you
play ranas when they shout it out
much how you made them all smile
Ritchie in a nation at war with it self, ashamed of
the blood on his hands, you were never
ashamed of who you were, took an old folk
song from B Cruz, la bamba swung that afro
Mexican rhythm into rock and roll
and sang all Spanish lyrics at a time when
speaking Spanish came with a wooden
paddle punishment, you played live at the
Apollo with Chuck Berry and rocked,
you were a legend and Rich before
that night before you boarded that plane,
before you tumbled from the sky like it
caled me in before your 19th birthday
your body frozen near that Lake in
Wisconsin the phrase what if still sits
on our tongues and America is still
trying to shape you into Hollywood still
trying to bleach the memory of your skin
wrote a movie and said you never spoke
Spanish when you understood each cadino
your mother placed in your ears as a
child chocked her death up to
Superstition and Mexican hoopla there
are myths scattered in your legacy but I
know Ritchie we know it was always about
your music and that cannot be disfigured
it plays forever in our hearts it is
trapped inside Carlos Santana’s fingertips
it drifts through alleys and walkways
plays on television during commercials
rides up elevators drifts into backyards
where there is some boy brown and dusty
desperately trying to play a guitar with
only two strings

Watch Myrlin Hepworth perform Ritchie Valens on YouTube

About the poet Myrlin Hepwroth

Myrlin Hepworth’s poem “Ritchie Valens” is a moving tribute to the young Chicano rock and roll legend Ritchie Valens—born Richard Valenzuela—who revolutionized American music before his tragic death at just 17 years old. The poem vividly recounts Valens’ meteoric rise, from his humble beginnings in the San Fernando Valley to becoming a star, all while battling the racial prejudice and cultural erasure that sought to strip him of his Mexican identity.

Hepworth crafts an evocative narrative, painting Valens as more than just a musician but as a symbol of resilience and cultural pride. The poem highlights the systemic pressures that forced Valens to change his name, downplaying his heritage to fit a white-dominated industry. However, despite the attempts to whitewash his identity, Valens’ Chicano roots remained embedded in his music, most notably in La Bamba, a Spanish-language hit that defied the mainstream aversion to bilingualism at the time.

Hepworth’s lyrical and rhythmic style mirrors the energy of Valens’ music, blending historical context with an almost spoken-word urgency. The poem seamlessly weaves together Valens’ personal story with broader themes of racial tension, cultural assimilation, and artistic defiance. It acknowledges the ways America has attempted to reshape Valens’ legacy while emphasizing the power of his music, which continues to inspire generations.

The final lines leave us with a powerful image: a young, brown-skinned boy struggling with a two-string guitar, much like Valens once did. It is a reminder that Ritchie’s influence is eternal, resonating in the lives of future musicians and dreamers.

To learn more about Myrlin Hepworth’s poetry and his contributions to spoken word and Chicano storytelling, visit his poet bio page here.

Chris Lane NORAZpoets Sedona poetry AZpoetry.com

Christopher Lane

March 7, 2025

Christopher Lane: The Poetic Voice of Struggle, Advocacy, and Healing

Christopher Lane was more than a poet—he was a fearless advocate for truth, a champion for the power of poetry, and a voice for those struggling with addiction and loss. Though his life ended far too soon in August 2012, his words and work continue to inspire, comfort, and challenge those who encounter them.

As the founder and director of the Arizona chapter of the Alzheimer’s Poetry Project (APP) and a widely recognized poet and community leader, Lane dedicated his life and work to poetry as a tool for healing, connection, and self-exploration. His poetry captured the harsh realities of addiction, the depths of personal struggle, and the resilience of the human spirit, leaving behind a legacy that remains deeply relevant today.

A Poet of Raw Honesty and Unwavering Courage

Christopher Lane’s poetry was bold, unfiltered, and deeply personal. His work was heavily influenced by his own battles with addiction, mental health struggles, and self-reflection, which became central themes in his writing. His acclaimed poetry collection, who is your god now?, published by Woodley & Watts, serves as a powerful testament to his ability to capture pain, hope, and the complexities of human existence in breathtaking verse.

Through his writing, Lane fearlessly explored the emotional weight of addiction and recovery, creating poems that speak to those who feel unheard or unseen. His words resonated with anyone struggling to find meaning, battling inner demons, or searching for redemption, making him one of Arizona’s most powerful contemporary poetic voices.

Championing Poetry as a Tool for Healing

Beyond his literary achievements, Christopher Lane was a tireless advocate for poetry as a means of healing and human connection. He was deeply involved in Arizona’s poetry scene, performing at some of the state’s most prestigious literary events, including:

Desert Nights, Rising Stars Writers Conference at Arizona State University
Tucson Poetry Festival

But his most profound impact extended beyond the traditional poetry stage. Lane was a key figure in bringing poetry to underserved communities, especially elders living with dementia.

The Alzheimer’s Poetry Project: Christopher Lane’s Lasting Legacy

One of Lane’s most remarkable contributions was his pioneering work in using poetry to connect with individuals living with Alzheimer’s disease and dementia. As the founder and director of the Arizona chapter of the Alzheimer’s Poetry Project (APP), he played a crucial role in expanding the program to other states.

The Alzheimer’s Poetry Project, founded by Gary Glazner, recognized Lane’s passion and commitment to this work. In a heartfelt tribute after his passing, APP wrote:

“We were deeply saddened to learn of Christopher’s death in August of 2012. In the early stages of the APP, Lane was the first person Glazner asked to help expand the project to other states. He was an amazing advocate for poetry. On working with elders living with dementia, Lane said, ‘I just see them as my Grandma and Grandpa and hug them just like I would my own loved ones.’ He will be truly missed.”

Under Lane’s direction, the Arizona chapter of APP, sponsored by Northern Arizona Poets (NORAZ Poets), began in 2003 and became an official 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization in 2005.

His deep compassion, dedication, and belief in poetry’s ability to break barriers and foster connection continue to shape APP’s mission today.

An Award-Winning Poet and Arts Advocate

Christopher Lane’s impact on Arizona’s literary and arts communities was widely recognized and celebrated. He received numerous honors for both his poetry and his dedication to fostering creativity and healing through art.

His notable awards and recognitions include:

2010 Bill Desmond Writing Award – Arizona Commission on the Arts
2009 Mayor’s Arts Award – City of Sedona (Individual Category)
2009 Artist Project Grant – City of Sedona Arts and Culture Commission
2008 Gardens for Humanity Visionary Grant
2006 Emerging Artist Grant – City of Sedona Arts and Culture Commission

These awards reflect his tremendous influence as a poet, educator, and advocate, and his commitment to bringing poetry to diverse communities across Arizona.

A Lasting Influence on Poetry and Advocacy

Christopher Lane’s legacy lives on through his written words, community work, and unwavering belief in poetry as a force for change. His poetry remains a beacon of truth for those struggling with addiction and mental health. His work with elders, students, and fellow poets continues to inspire poets, caregivers, and advocates who believe in the transformative power of storytelling.

Though he passed away at just 40 years old, his impact far exceeded his years, and his poetry continues to resonate with those seeking solace, understanding, and a voice that echoes their own. Christopher Lane was a published poet with who is your god now? published by Woodley & Watts.

Revolution by Ed Mabrey

March 7, 2025

“Revolution” by Ed Mabrey

there’s a revolution. it spins like the
world on its axis, so fast it carries no
sound, no image, not even a vibration and
if you run fast, like a child, and come to
a sudden stop in your sprint, close your
eyes quick, and hold your breath. you’ll
feel it, you’ll hear it just say seconds
behind, or a lifetime ahead. right now,
there’s a Vietnamese boy running through
a field with a pair of Nikes tucked
under his arm, dodging bullets like
raindrops, his blistered feet barely
touching the grass, racing across the mud,
racing against consumerism. the shoes are
not for him, but for his grandmother so
that the time in the field can be
gentler in its monotony. right now, a
boy’s just found a stone, he checks his
weight for strength, it’s grooves for
accuracy, then darts off with his fist
held high, signaling to the other that
the stick ball game was officially on,
never knowing that the the rock he holds
is the last reigning piece to a church
bomb years ago in Selma, Alabama and the
sound he hears played after, when he
cracks a home run, is not the tinkling of
broken glass from Miss Johnson’s window,
but four little black angels crying
tears of joy, cheering him as his feet
hit every base. right now, in the Soviet
Union, where the red curtain might be
tatted, but its’ blood stained glow still
cast over the eyes of everyone living
there, and names like Stalin and Lenin
bring shivers colder than the Hudson in
December, and names like optimism, freedom,
and democracy can get you shot, killed if
you’re lucky. there was a girl sticking
her hand into a military bonfire
ignoring the pain and crackling of her
own skin, she takes out a book half charred,
which reads Three Sisters by Chekov
and tucks it underneath the shirt, not
for warmth, but salvation. right now, a
crackhead had waited 10 minutes longer than
he did yesterday, before going in the cop
and tells himself tomorrow I’ll shoot
for 20. a raced girl with bags underneath
her eyes, and in beneath the legs which
both by now her age stands, on the corner
Main & Champion, and when some Tide
State worker comes by flashing crisp $20
bills she gets on the bus and heads home
for the first time in months. can you
hear me now right now? a boy just ran for
his life to go to school today, some girl
got caught and smacked to some
piece of car, leaving her purse
behind, but not a virginity. can you hear
me now? right now, a man just cut off his
TV and actually had a conversation with
his kids. there is a revolution happening
around us every moment, of every day, and
it is not black power, nor white power, it
is not scary, not tyrannical, it is not
Hitler nor Gandhi, Martin or Malcolm, Mama,
no Nora. it is a young couple’s kiss
behind the bleachers and the old couple
holding hands in the mall, it is loving someone
intensely for 5 minutes, then letting go
when the song ends. it is your misfiring
synapses, your unfit high, your seemingly
miserable existence that still keeps
beating in your chest like some Drummer
Boy hellbent on getting through a
spiritual desert, it is writing a poem or
hearing one. it is your inhale and exhale.
right now, there’s a revolution being
fought right around us. look at the
person next to you. see the battle being
fought in their eyes and recognize it is
just a reflection of the same war being
fought inside you. it’s but the effort to
live your life the way you wish every
moment, every day of this life that you
have and that is the battle and that is
the Revolution and your goal tonight is
a inhale and exhale to living live
inhale, exhale. can you hear me now? if so
then fight on soldiers, ‘cuz the life you
saved this night will be your
own.

Transcribed from the video “Revolution” by Ed Mabrey and Poetry Slam Archives.

Watch Ed Mabrey perform “Revolution” on YouTube

About the poet Ed Mabrey

Ed Mabrey’s poem Revolution is an urgent and powerful meditation on the silent, ongoing battles that define human existence. Unlike traditional revolutions that are marked by violence, politics, or ideological shifts, the revolution in Mabrey’s poem is deeply personal, invisible to the untrained eye, yet ever-present in our lives.

The poem unfolds in a series of vignettes, each capturing a moment of struggle, resilience, or defiance from various corners of the world. A Vietnamese boy runs barefoot, dodging bullets, not for himself but to bring comfort to his grandmother. A child picks up a stone for a game, unaware that it is a remnant of a church bombing in Selma, infused with historical pain. A girl in the Soviet Union risks her life to rescue a banned book from flames—not for warmth, but for the survival of knowledge. A crack addict fights against addiction, pushing the boundaries of self-control. A young woman, forced into sex work, takes her first steps toward reclaiming her life.

Through these moments, Mabrey illustrates that revolution is not just found in grand historical narratives but in the quiet acts of endurance, courage, and self-reclamation that happen right now—in real time, all around us. He challenges the reader to recognize the struggles in the eyes of those around them and to see their own internal battles reflected there. The poem’s rhythmic repetition of “right now” creates a sense of immediacy, making the revolution feel not only inevitable but also deeply personal.

Mabrey’s final call to action is simple yet profound: breathe. The act of inhaling and exhaling, of continuing despite hardship, is itself an act of defiance, a way to reclaim one’s life. Revolution is not just about resistance; it is about existence, about the ongoing fight to live authentically and freely.

Discover more about Ed Mabrey’s poetry and performance legacy here on his bio page.

Get Tickets to see Ed Mabrey, Individual World Poetry Slam Champion, feature at Ghost Poetry Show on April 9th, 2025!

April 9th, 2025 at The Rebel Lounge

Doors at 7:00PM | Show at 7:30PM

Advance Price: $10 + fees
Day Of Show Price: $12 + fees

21+This is a special Ghost Poetry Show for National Poetry Month! Individual World Poetry Slam Champion ED MABREY features award-winning poetry live and in-your-face in the intimate setting of The Rebel Lounge!

15 poets compete in a poetry slam for cash prizes judged by 5 randomly selected audience members.

To sign up to perform email us at GhostPoetryShow@gmail.com

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