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No title yet. This is one of my slam poems, which I'm still working on, on and off at least.

Poetry is elevator music;

that soothing rhythm beat,

transparent and narcotic

to the step of your lifestreet.

The background sounds

to the introduction of a movement,

something like a tonic

for the itch of your moment.

The purpose of poetry is

not to scream and shout,

not to turn about

the crowd toward your pain,

your rage and tear chains.

The purpose of a poem

can be the poet’s soul,

but poetry

is far too honest

for soul searching.

Poetry is truth;

that time you refused to hesitate any longer,

and erupted into yourself.

Poetry is not polite,

although it can be.

Poetry is not loud,

although it may wish to be.

Poetry is not passionate,

although at times it is necessary.

Poetry is only one thing

for all people:

reality.

Author's Note

I hope to, at some point when I'm alone and have the gumption, record myself 'performing' this poem and upload it with a link here.

All critique is welcomed and appreciated. I really would like feedback on this one.