© 2021 Deah Curry PhD
This is my first attempt at slam poetry. Technically, this type of poetry is meant to be performed, not merely written or casually read. The performance includes interaction from an audience which might praise the work or the poet, but which might have a more critical, rejecting, rude and mean response -- hence slamming the performance. But there are other distinctions as well. These poems are often highly politicized, drawing upon racial, economic, and gender injustices as well as current events for subject manner. A broadening of these characteristics of slam poetry can also include an emotion-evoking or resonating description of a difficult experience. This attempt below falls into that category.
Odd Where the Body Chooses
Why at night
when the mind craves rest
does the body yell loudest,
hyperactive, aching
deep in the muscles where
leg meets groin
dull hurting worse than
sharp cuts of surgeons knives
or mother’s unkind criticisms
No position providing comfort
neither in bed, nor chair,
nor that chair over there,
neither straight nor bent,
no ointment nor patch
no electric heat
nor cool winter sheets
relieve the pain at all
much less allow sleep
One thirty, two Tylenol,
one Aleve,
a cup of distraction
hoping to trade
one kind of throbbing
for another but
no bedtime joy tonight
from Outlander on Audible
Two fifteen, breathing meditation
heightens awareness
improves felt sensing
qualities of pain
in that crease so
normally asleep
now dull aching deep
muscles unrelenting
punishing the sacral energies
of the receptive, the yin
side of the pelvic floor
heart of female memory
power center of emotions
connecting sexjoy to life’s creations
Three forty-five,
body refusing to answer
what do you want from me?
Is it necessary to torture
the groin at this hour?
Sixty minutes might be
tolerated like the four thirty
annoying, persistent,
endurance of a toddler
with no concept
of appropriate times of day for
temporary hurt similar
to wrestling with yoga poses
Five twenty, leg screaming
in chorus now with sore
hip bones so more
bodytalk silencers
Seven ten, mirage of relief
allow a brief nap
Eight fifteen caffeine
washing down silent pleas
get dressed and pray
to nap through the day
like an old lady nursing
insults of asking body to act
invincible, impervious to aging
Ten o’clock brain cells
absent in the agony of the night
remind weary consciousness
a vial of arnica montana 200c
lies in wait at the bottom
of a kitchen catchall basket
promising the untried cure
for adductors contracting
when the mindbodyspirit
cries too hard over loss
Odd where the body chooses
to express the need to
move beyond soul suffering
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