Wednesday, July 09, 2003

summer slam
zildjangirl: SummerSLAM! August 2nd rain date 4th at Park next to Sig school

Thursday, June 26, 2003

I just got in the mail today my slam membership from PSI! I also got an e-mail that says our venue has been o.k'd so it's official! See ya'll at the next slam at Wadi on July 5th!

Wednesday, June 18, 2003

early July slam at the Wadi Cafe
zildjangirl: Poetry slam July 5th at 7:30 pm

Open topic still

Friday, June 13, 2003

more of Lisa's poems...

I feel like I'm falling...
down a spiral staircase hitting my head on the metal hard as I go around...with you
But unlike last time
This time I can't seem to get back up and dust off
I just lie there on the floor
Body aching, but wearing a big stupid smile.
Why do people put themselves in relationships that they know will fail?
I mean, I'm not trying to be profound here but, a higher percentage of newlyweds end in divorce and in a time where prenups are a must I have to wonder what happened to death do us part.
Yet here I am.
The hopeless romantic, a dying breed.
And I still hold onto the dream
That someday a man will come and sweep me off my feet.
And we'll travel the world together, watching sunsets in Bali and sipping champagne in Spain.
And then grow old together, and still be madly in love.
I know I sound so naive and girlish when I put out these needs, but I want a man that will write me poetry
Leave little notes on my car just to say hello
And bring me flowers, bought or fresh, just because he knows I'd like that.
I'm taking my chance in lust and love
throwing my heart out on my sleeve
All I want is someone who when I fall,
He'll catch me
But then fall too.

This overcoming wave of sleep washes over me as I think...of you
and how I want to hold you in my arms.
And NEVER let you go.
Hold you tight, everything allright...
please please please please please please....don't let go.
and while I hold you
I want our energy to become one
Molded together until our bodies are so hot it's like fire on ice
I want to run the stars through your hair, and not care what time the clock says
And when you trace circles in the spine of my back, it sends chills down my body, even to the spots that we can't talk about in public
Even the smell of your hair would stop time, and I could seriously do anything with you
No matter how horrible, if you're there, it's a good time.
You could own me.
Have me eating out of the palm of your hand, yet you don't even know it.
Cause I don't want to be in charge of a relationship anymore.
I want to be the woman for once
Pay for me and open car doors, tell me how pretty my eyes are and that I have a cute nose who knows how far you could go cause I fall for that kind of shit...
I fall hard.
Your like my midas touch
Everything is golden...
Till I realize how silent and alone I feel

Im posting my poems!

Ever since I was a little girl I wanted to play Chopin
So, at the tender age of four I said,
"Mommy I wanna play piano," and she said that it was o.k. but I had to promise her one thing
That I would stick with it
Like all little girls I got bored and instead of ivory keys wanted Barbie's Malibu dreams, ice cream, and dress up and now must fess up that piano was just another thing I never finished.
My mother would send me upstairs to practice and I would give my best I don't give a damn glare and think, "well FU piano...and Chopin."
Sophmore year came, and I finally quite piano
And I still can't play a damn piece of Chopin.
As I glance around my room at barely touched guitars and amps
Silent dust drums and I realize...
I never finish what I start
From music to diets to boyfriends...
I may come back around and change
But I never finish
I've been on every diet, tried every hobby from rock tumbling to horseback riding
And I've dated the same guy...three times
I'm starting to realize that I've accomplished nothing
I can't play piano, drums, or guitar
I haven't had a meaningful relationship
and I'm currently on Weight Watchers with a target of 31 points per day
So just like everything else in my life
I'm not going to finish this poem
cause I've run out of things to say...

Thursday, June 12, 2003

This is Lisa...i will post my poems later tonight=) sorry for the delay, im a slacker...the slam went well...aprox. 54 people came, give or take a few, and i think it went really well... i too love Phuc's poetry, it makes me laugh, but when reading for an audience, you want to be carefull no to offend people, and that is what Phuc did so the outcome was a given=) also the random wadi worker that read open mic was Mitch and he is actually a regular at Wadi, and he poem was really good. I'll keep posted on when the next slam will be and if it will have any theme or details...probably will be in early July before I leave for Spain so i'll keep the info coming...Have a great summer and everyone keep safe! talk to ya later! -Lisa

Monday, June 09, 2003

Educated Rap by Sibo Lin

The 1500 on the SAT
is not enough
gotta get a perfect
to make my college application look buff

This past week has been a
travesty of summer break
Most people are lethargic and sleep in
But I had to stay wide awake

Cuz' I had to study
and memorize words so long
that when I rap with these words
you can't sing along!

A toady is not an amphibian at all but a yes man
A toady is perfidious, mendacious, and profligate

I love to masticate. MasTIcate, which means I ate.

Hey, I got an idea,
We ain't nothing but mammals
so let's masticate like the simians do it on the discovery channel

And afterwards we may give out flatulence
which will be noisome and malodorous
but it's all good, as long as it's just the two of us

And afterwards we can abscond
and our odor can make a man wan

a wan man can't tan, so he has to resort to chicanery and
spray on a tan

I know you can't understand a word I'm saying
but don't be diffident, try to understand the missive
that I'm conveying

if a wan man can't tan, and he cheats to get a tan, he loses.

so don't cheat for the SAT.
learn lots of new words.
and give your own educated rap.

June 7th Poetry Slam at the Wadi Cafe Recap

Contestants were (in performance order): Tara Zuber, Sibo Lin, Phuc Nguyen, Brittany Temme, Sunil Patel, and Lisa White. Finals were Lisa and I, and it was a tie (prizes went to me because Lisa didn't want them). Brittany Gerteisen, Alex Reising, Amy Reitz, a worker from Wadi, and Phuc performed during open mic. Alex won the "Best Listener" award for his wonderful haiku. Phuc won the "Most Conceited" award, haha. I dunno, I loved Phuc's poetty even though parts were offensive.

Tara performed a poem about "Why I should not Slam" and then performed her "America Needs a Fantasy" which is in Signature School's 2002-2003 yearbook. I performed "My Dream Job", "Mutant Pride", and "Machismo", and I had an "Educated Rap" ready to perform in case I needed a fourth poem. I'll post that later. Phuc performed "Hire Me" and "Baby Love". Then during open mic he performed "Twinkie Girl" and "Translation". Temme performed some poetry I can't remember the names of. Sunil thought the poetry slam was a rap battle. He wrote an impromptu poem about Tara, my, Phuc, and Temme's poems. It didn't fly well with the judges. Lisa performed poems that I can't remember the names of either. But she'll post the title's and poems later I'm sure.

If anyone has any critiques on the performance of any of my poetry (listed below), constructive or Simonesque, IM me (sn: seebol). IM hate messages to Phuc at sn: superheroe2002.

For the record: I personally love Phuc's poetry, even though I recognize parts are offensive. And despite some extremely strange similarities between our poems, we did not collaborate at all on this slam.


Sunday, June 08, 2003

Sibo Lin's poems from the June 7th Wadi Slam

My Dream Job

What would you like today
Would you like fries with that order
Would you like to Super Size that
Would you like to try our new gourmet salads?

They say
that McDonalds is always hiring
Hiring with no discrimation based on age, gender, race, religion, or hairstyle
An equal opportunity employer

That is crap!
I applied for a job there last summer
And obviously, I am qualified to serve
the American People their McChickens
I would have even dressed up as Ronald McDonald if the job required it
But I was not offered a job.

From Mc-freaking-Donalds.

That's wrong! Wrong like Dr. Phil giving advice on love! Wrong like Walmart selling sexy lingerie!

Yes, I know
that is sad
But my rejection from McDonalds was really a blessing in disguise
I am now free to pursue higher career aspirations
And with your help, I can fulill my lifelong dream:

To become a professional video gamer

I could play video games
all day
all night
pausing only to take swigs of Mountain Dew
a.k.a. liquid caffeine
and to switch games after I whoop King Koopa
for the 108th time

You may think that video games are worthless
But according to a study presented by Reuters News Service of May 29th 2003
Video games improve hand-eye coordination and
"visual processing skills"
which means that the single most important factor in my passing ISTEP
was countless hours of nonstop Tetris

You may think that video games promote violence and crime
You're just afraid I'll kick your butt in Mario Party
Or blow your head off in Goldeneye

You give video games a bad name because
you suck at them
Your coordination is so screwed up
you can't get past the 2nd level of Dance Dance Revoultion
Your aim is so horrible
you couldn't hit the broad side of
a virtual flock of pheasants

While you're stuck on King Koopa
I've become the ruler of 6 different virtual worlds
And you are jealous
of my skills

In the world of video games
I always win!
I am Mario
And you are just Luigi!

Admit it
You are ashamed of your gaming ability

But I can help

For minimum wage
I will teach you the ways of the gaming Jedi

I am a 4.0 student with a strong extracurricular background
I have solid recommendations
And I have not been convicted of a federal offense or misdemeanor in the last two years

Just please
Give me a job!

Mutant Pride

"Ladies and Gentlemen
The Truth is that mutants are very real, and they are among us
We must know who they are
and, above all, what they can do"

X-Men 2 is a freaking masterpiece.
Forget the Titanic with its 11 Academy Awards.
X-Men 2 is simply the best movie ever.

It's not just a bunch of superheroes fighting supervillians
with their superpowers
In order to ensure the future of supranational organizations such as the UN

It's a story that we witness every day. A story of man fearing man. Man hating man. Man attacking man. All because man can be religiously, culturally, or genetically intolerant.

Don't hate me because I have a beautiful Asian tan. I promise, I won't hate you for your white skin. We're all different. We're all mutants.

And deep down there are mutant powers that we all possess
And supress, hide
for fear of being seen as weak

Sure, we don't have telekinesis like Dr. Jean Gray
the power to physically move things with our mind
But we can have compassion
the power to move mankind

We can't control the weather like Storm
Or blast through obstacles like Cyclops
But we can weather the bumps on the road of life

We can't physically heal from a brawl as quickly as Logan
But we can mend our relationships and forget our fights with two simple words
"I'm sorry"

I'm sorry for anyone who has not embraced their individuality
We are all different.
We are all mutants.
And the greatest mutant power of all is
accepting who you are

Mutation. It is the key to our humanity. It has allowed us to evolve from cavemen into a fusion of different cultures and people. The test is if these different people can use their mutant powers of compassion, resiliancy, and forgiveness peacefully. This process is slow, normally facing stiff resistence from the social order. But every few millenia, evolution leaps forward.


I have a confession
I used to enjoy watching romantic comedies
a.k.a. "chick flicks"
But when a girl informed me that any movie with Adam Sandler in it
cannot be romantic
I realized the true definition of a chick flick--

A chick flick is a movie that girls in general love
but guys would rather waste an hour of their free time going to the dentist
than watching a chick flick

I know.
Last week I watched
A Walk to Remember
a chick flick
Starring Mandy Moore as an impossibly beautiful
but unpopular girl in the jungle of high school

If you have not seen this movie yet, please cover your ears for the next 10 seconds as I rant about its hackneyed plot

To make a long story short, Mandy Moore falls in love with the cool guy
who in turn sacrifices his popularity to be with her
She then reveals that she is dying from terminal cancer
and will die in a year
But the cool guy-turned-caring boyfriend stays by her side and even gets married to her

how romantic

No. More like "how painful." More like "would you like the grape-flavored flouride or orange-flavored flouride shoved into your mouth as you gag for the next 101 minutes."

After watching A Walk to Remember I've had enough chick-flavored flick to last me a lifetime. I mean, why do the girl and the guy always have to fall madly in love with each other at the end. Why can't they do something cool, like dodge bullets and blow up stuff.

That is why I'm going to invent my own film genre. Instead of the "chick flick," the box office will be dominated by
"macho movies."

You may think action movies have enough machismo as it is
But trust me, there can be more

The Matrix Reloaded was good

but imagine if Neo, instead of using a puny pistol,
packed a rocket-propelled grenade launcher
capable of blowing up all 200 copies of Agent Smith

imagine if Trinity could
grow adamentium claws and slash her way to Neo's arms
her true love

How cool would that be!
Nothing would compare with The Matrix: Macho Edition

And the Macho Revolution will be lead by the most macho of all action heroes.

That's right!
Watch out Charlie's Angels!
The Sibonator is in town.
And I'm going to make you pay
for the pain you have inflicted on guys all around the world.

Phuc Nguyen's poems from the June 7th Wadi Slam

Hire Me

I’m sure a number of you have pondered this question many times before.
“mann…where am I going to get a job?”
“It’s summer baby! And I can’t get any…job that is”
And if you and I are asking the very same question, you know where I’m going here
I’m going to a land where high school students are getting screwed in the behind
Where they are promised of jobs from ads across the newspaper,
But then…
only to find the job has been filled.
My job frustration has taken over any sanity left in me.
My vision has been blurred.
I’m beginning to mistake the ugly girls for the pretty girls
The gay guys for straight.
And Asians boys as whities.
How much more injustice will this society allow?
Whatever happens to “equal employment opportunity?”
Now I’m not going to:
…or act like a premature teenage girl.
I just want a chance…
You act like you own the place!
MY daddy knows kung fu (karate moves)… wait until I tell him what you’re doing to me
Rejecting me!?
Can’t touch this!
But honestly…I am not here
To scare you
Intimidate you
Give me a chance…
I’ll show you that your investment in me will not be put to waste.
I’m a universal kind of guy. Multi-cultural
You need a religious man? Please consider me
I’m a Christian, a Buddhist, Lutheran, oh heck I’ll be whatever fits your needs.
You need someone who will fit your schedule?
I’m flexible baby. I’ll bend any directions you want. Just give me a chance
With me, you got 30 days no risk in home free trial.
What more can you ask for…you simply can’t loose.
You like breakfast in bed? I can do that!
Prefer your meals on a cool summer beach? I’ll take you there!
I’m like your Mastercard, priceless.
Hire me…limited time offer only.
My parents said I can’t work during the school year.

Baby Love

In the beginning, I thought loving a girl is like putting on deodorant.
Sooner or later it’s going to loose its protective ingredients.
My elementary school years were just that…
Cept I didn’t use deodorant back then, I loved girls after girls.
Many walked out of my life as sudden as they came.
Her name was Summer. Summer, from what I can remember, was your plain average looking schoolgirl. Blonde hair—blue eyes—no brown eyes—hmm is that even possible?
Well it really doesn’t matter what she looked like.
She caught my attention and I--
I fell victim to baby love.
I was a baby swimming amidst a pool of elementary beauties.
By the middle of 5th grade year, I was attracted with 5 different girls at once.
Their legs
Smooth with not tint of hair.
They didn’t need to shave, cause there was really nothing…there
My peaceful world turned upside down as I entered middle school
Ohhh how I remember these girls!
Like animals!
Too hairy for my taste
Some even had mustaches. While at the time…even I didn’t have one.
Man! I felt as if I was in a jungle.
Full of wild creatures who thought winter was a special holiday made for not shaving.
And to add to this…these girls thought they were cool when they shook they bon bons at school dances.
I did not see them as cool…
All I saw were rebel girls…wanting to bend
and put their freaks on. Freak dancing they called it.
I was not impressed by how they pounced the floor.
The cheerleaders for the basketball team came in all shapes and sizes.
And I do mean all shapes and sizes.
The whole geometry class was on the cheerleading squad.
You’ve got girls looking like a cube,
Your triangle
…jelly doughnuts
…and shapes with so many sides I just had to stop counting.
It was more like a self-esteem booster.
I could not handle it.
So that is why I did not attend more than 3 games during middle school.
Her name was Kim Russell. She was the best of my middle school days.
Was an exception to your average everyday middle love.
But friends we became…what could’ve didn’t.
Girls flashed out of my mind like kicking little puppies…
Quick and easy.
That’s how I like love baby.
But that was then and this is now.
I now realize that girls aren’t sticks of Old Spice I rub underneath my arm pits.
These young ladies have feelings.
And I…I’ve fallen victim for girls such as Kensington Blaylock
Kensington baby, you’ve got more curves than the race tracks of the Indy 500.
So how about it Kensington, lets save water. Shower with a friend.
Her name is Brittany Kristen Temme. BKT.
Though I like to refer her as my sex cell…sex gamete.
This girl rocked my world, turned mad hell into ice, and would make a preacher cursed by the size of her…uhhh…enough said.
She is my high school sweetheart!
The kind where you will tell your grandkids about.
A star that will shine ever so brightly.
Brittany baby, all I need is a little piece and quiet.
So give me a piece and I'll be quiet!
Because your booty is outta this world.

Twinkie Girl

I said HEY YOU twinkie girl and you got mad at me.
You called me a no good…son of a b.!
And if that was not enough, you continue to humiliate me…
Flicked me off with the very finger you picked your nose with.
You are special baby. The first I’ve ever seen.
You broke my heart…played with my emotions…
You act like a nun…always wearing the black and white.
You said black and white are colors with symbolism…
Black representing the mysterious side of you
White representing the angelic spirit within you…
Cut the crap and kiss me.
I called you my “American Pie” and you got mad me!
You said “pies don’t taste good”
Baby…my pies don’t come with holes.
I asked you if I could have the directions to your heart?
And you said "Yes…you make a left at 'Hell No' Ave. and keep going straight 'til you get to 'F.U.' Blvd.
Don’t you love me
Short and sweet, hard to beat.
Why so cruel?
Smacked me down like I’m a blonde.
I called you my Virgin marry and you got mad at me.
Accusing me of being a hater
A playa.
I said girllll love me.
Homie G girl. You got to feel me.
What is love…loves hurts.


Have you ever been in a Chinese restaurant and the waitress asks you a question
Or make a comment about you with grins on her face…
But yet you have no clue what the heck she is saying?
So you just nod repeatedly
Deep down you are going…
And you feel stupid!
Well I’d like to take this opportunity to translate some of the more commonly used phrases in a Chinese restaurant.
For example, when she asks you “hahha ohhhhh what’s up jiggas?”
She’s merely saying “table for 4 and I see 3 asians they must want water and a white boy—he will get a Coke”
Now we come to the part after she brought your food
And decides to stop by and say “ehhhh..ehh…tub not full?”
Well that’s basically saying “tip me or I will flat your tires.”
Ladies and Gentlemen please tip. They are vicious.
While eating you happen to ease drop on a conversation she is having with another co-worker and notice she is looking at you.
And this is what you heard “ohh mi mama es tu pappa”… or so you thought
You ask yourself…Spanish???
This can’t be!
Translation baby. This is what she’s saying “MAN! That’s one fat white kid…his butt cheeks are size of my mom and your dad.”
And who can forget the time when she comes out and offers you refills
…and says “say whaaa—jigga whaa??”
It took me 3 years and 54 visits to finally understand what she was saying.
She said “Yo-yo yo!!! FAT KID! CHEAP ASIANS! Would YOU like a Refill?”
I was shocked and awed!
She called me cheap!
It hurt…
When you finally finished and had already paid for your meals…she gives you each a fortune cookie
…and says “Jamaican me crazy”
Your first impulse is to say ‘hmm….she’s hitting on me?”
NOooo wrong my friend…
Translation “Booty boy (referring to the white kid)….you gotta lose some weight.”
Respect your Chinese waitress.

Monday, May 26, 2003


zildjangirl: JUNE 7th at 7:30 pm at WAdi its a Saturday so it should be packed

Tuesday, May 13, 2003

Rachel Goldman's poems from the Wadi Slam


I am sick and tired of the whiney- bitchy-ness of my generation.
Where "emo" and cardigans and shrinks are the pop-culture du jour.
Where sipping lattes and discussing "the bell jar" are our favorite pastimes.
Where a bad poetry filled old notebook is the accessory of choice.
I am slowly but surely loosing my sanity. How "hip" of me.

When exactly did it become so cool to care so much?
How did this movement grow so big
Where was I when this all happened?!
Where did Eminem go?
What the HELL is up with "Dashboard Confessionals"?

I say we take a stand against this pathetic revolution.
Stop these lame asses in their tracks.

Let's be happy.
That's right, show those idiots who's having a better time, laugh.
"Smilers wear a crown, losers wear a frown."
Don't tell me that doesn't rhyme for a reason.

It takes fewer muscles to smile than it does to frown,
so, sure they're getting a better workout,
but that's not why they do it,
well defined facial muscles are not what they're aiming for.
And, it just goes to show you how easy it is
to fight in the war against "sad kids".

That's right, I said the

Who needs a 17 year old self proclaimed philosopher
breathing down their neck 24/7.
Not me. No sireee!
I have better things to worry about, like
The gross shit under my finger nails!

Why should I listen to them?
Why encourage them to do the very thing
That aggravates me soooooo much!
I have to stand up here and rant about it for 3 minutes?

So, join me in my battle.
Prevent wide spread sadness, all you have to do, is smile.


I am an anxious person,
Which is probably because I am both a female and Jewish,
But I would like to think it's due to living in this world.

I stopped reading the newspaper a long time ago,
Due to my inability to cope with the weird shit
that goes on around me,
The snipers,
The shootings,
The theft,
The murder,
The war,
The child molesters,
The "two" plastic surgeries the Michael Jackson has had.

It all makes me so nervous,
I can't function in a
normal, sane manner.

I wake up every morning,
And before I leave the house
I have checked
Double checked
And triple checked my fly
Because I'm worried that
I will have forgotten to zip up my pants
And everyone will see that I am wearing
"Monday" underwear on a Thursday.

Don't think I made this up, I've heard stories.

These scenarios I play in my head.
They're constantly running,
Like a record that keeps skipping,
And all you hear is part of a word,
Raou, raou, raou, raou, raou, raou,
Until you think your going to go crazy.

And its never going to stop,
Peaceful is a word that doesn't exist in our world,
And, until it does, I'll be sitting here,
Waiting, until I can't take it anymore.


Hi, I'm the kid you hire to watch your children.
Please, sit back and relax while I inform you
How 2 dollars an hour is an
inappropriate amount of money to pay me.

I know all you dirty little secrets!
You see a marriage counselor
Because of intimacy problems
I wouldn't be surprised
He's hung like a three year old

"How do I know?"
Silly, I rummage through you underwear drawer.
Which means I also know you like to wear
Women's lingerie.

I know your social security number
I know your address
I know your phone number
And I know what you did last summer,
Because I've seen the pictures on your shelves

I am the world's most legitimate stalker

Don't think I won't take you seriously
When you say
"make yourself at home"


I will eat you food
I will put my feet on your table
I will masturbate in your bed!

So, please be generous with the tips
Don't be stingy with your money
And please for your sake and that of your family's

Monday, May 05, 2003

tentative date for next slam

Right now, the date is the last friday of May, May 30.

If you'd like to receive any updates on the Wadi Slam date, email Sibo and tell him to give you updates.

Thursday, April 24, 2003

Just a quick note...
This Friday on HBO Def Poetry Jam my buddy Shappy will be on! If you have HBO check it out.(check local listings for time) Also news on this years national poetry slam is up! It's in Chicago in early August. We are trying to get a group to go up and check it out! If you'd like to check the website out go to: Check y'all later!
P.S. Got e-mail from Cristin O'keefe A. (she's the slammaster in NYC at Urbana, one of the all time best slams and slam team) She said Congrats on the Wadi slam and good job! Let's keep up the good work kids! Night!

Monday, April 21, 2003

Ok Phuc wasn't really DQ'd but Rachel wrote that on the score board...Thanks to all who came went so well that the owner at Wadi cafe said we could have another one! There will probably be a slam in May, the date is unknown, due to the fact I'm trying to get it when some of the out of town people who want to compete will be home. Stay posted here for the date of the next slam. We only need five more slams averaging 30 people per slam and then we can be certified! Also during the summer, there will be more then one slam a month, due to no school and we all get bored with nothing to do....Peace, Lisa (Wadi slam mistress)
P.S. I will post my poetry from the slam soon, I just need to type it!

Saturday, April 19, 2003

Wadi Slam recap(4/18/03)

Instead of putting the "thank you"s at the end of this post, I'll come out and say it right now: The Wadi Cafe is the coolest coffee oasis ever! Thanks so much for holding the slam for free!

Contestants were, in order of performance, Rachel Goldman, Sibo Lin, Phuc Nguyen, Amy Reitz, and Lisa White. Advancing to semifinals were Rachel, Sibo, and Lisa. Finals were Sibo and Lisa. Lisa won the championship.

Sara Hertweck and Daniel Baumgart wrote poetry on the spot and performed during open mic in intermissions.

Phuc was DQ'd based on the graphic nature of his pieces....("butt rape")

Attendence was about 52 people, but more contestants are needed.

Phuc Nguyen's Poems from the Wadi Slam(4/18/03)

So you say…you know me

So you say…you know me
You met a Chinese girl last week at Victoria Secret
And you had the balls to come up and ask her if she was MY sister.

Hey! I understand. I mean geez all Asians look the same
Well wake up and smell what this Asian man is cooking.
Our family circle is…really bigger than the butt cheeks of your mom.
So the odds of her being MY sister is truly in your favor.
Oh! By the way. I’m not Chinese.
But honestly, you know you really didn’t care whether or not she was my sister
Cause all you REALLY wanted is to dig that Chinese chick.
Well you can’t. Why can’t you? Because you’re blind.
And who wants to swing in the hips of a blind man?
Asian girls aren’t naughty schoolgirls.

For all the ladies in the audience:
Do you know what winks and screws like a tiger?
What can I say, I’m all that and more!
Didn’t know an Asian man could do that did you?

The invasion is HERE!
I make love to your women.
I can take five on at ONCE! Because I can type faster than they can!
The internet is MY BITCH!
You’re busy trying to call your “ladies”
Aww too bad, the line is busy. She’s online having cyber sex with me.
And you believed her when she tells you that she was just chatting with a friend.
The cool thing about this is:
You know Nothing about me,
And I know All about you,
And EVEN MORE about your women!

So you say…you know me
And that you can see what I am and who I am.
Can you see a passionate lover and a unique man standing up hear reading poetry
While seducing your women?
Can you see that I am bounded by your societal prison bars?
What the hell, a blind man can’t see!
And a blind man prolly can’t make love that well either cause he wouldn’t know what he’s licking!
I am simply:
a rebel
a chick magnet
an individual
and a person

I am that amazing guy
That put your pimps out of business!
Because all of their hoes got FAT from eating too many of my cookies!
My cookies rocked their world
And they love it.

I have shown you all that I am.
Do not model me into something that I am not
Give me a chance.

I have a fetish for cheesecake

I’m sitting on the couch…drunk.
Drunk like a blonde on her “smart” days.
Drunk like a guy getting his first kiss from a girl who is uglier than you.
I am drunk for “life” because there are too many things that need my “made in Asia”
There are soo much I want to see
I am drunk for the beautiful things…people that surround me.
OH GOD, how can I express the burning sensations of desires within my smooth body?

I am lost for words
Lost in paradise
Lost with love.

I want to go skinny dipping with all the girls in this room
Because one is too few
Two is still not enough
But “ALL” is satisfying
And I like what I see!

I feel so alive
I want to go exploring like the pioneers of the past
In nature
In “self”
…and in life

I have a fetish for cheesecake.
I have to admit, I am in love with one of the ladies in here.
Now you’re probably thinking, “Wait a minute, what does cheesecake has to do with this girl?”
Well it’s got everything to do with her.
Cheesecake is that thing I want.
First I want to butt rape her
Then I want make mad passionate love to her
Because she is
Staring at her is not enough.
I want to take her out
Take her to Shyler’s Barbeque because I love their “All you can eat” dinner.
This girl I speak of is amazing, beautiful, fun, and full of life.
I love you
I will always be drunk
Drunk for my family, friends, teachers, ladies.
Drunk for life.


I remember my first semi-porno movie watching experience.
The title of the movie was called “The Sweetest Thing”
I saw it with two friends of mine who thought that the scenes were great.
In their heads porno music was bouncing around like the birds and the bees.
But I, I thought differently.

I did not see the birds and bees, all I saw were people sucking each other’s faces, lips,
And the rest is up to your imagination.
This type of “love fest” romance will not cut it for me, because I want true love.
Love is important, don’t you dare tell me that it’s not.
For you see, I am a one woman man
A devotee
I am a believer in love at first site.
I mean I’m a guy. And all guys need the loving we so rightfully deserve.

I see couples walking down the street holding hands and butt raping each other
And I thought to myself, man…is this really true love -- can it be?
I need a soul-mate.
So I will now post up this ad for any ladies out there:
“WANTED: A meaningful overnight relationship”

I want to be your friend.
Someone you can talk to
Someone you can lean on
And will always be there
For you
That is true love.

But I am tired of being used and abused.
I just want to wrap my arms around my true love.
So HOW ABOUT IT (girl’s name)!!
Can [I] have directions…to your heart?

Superhero E2002

Growing up, all I ever wanted was to become a super hero.
Not just ANY hero, I wanted to be a hero whose job was to
repair broken hearts.
Forget about fighting street crimes, I am too fragile
I won’t deal with bank robbers, street thugs, and random outbursts.
My only concern is
To BEAT down the S.O.B. who broke your heart.
And then I will show you Super Hero passion
after I am done repairing you.
I am vicious.
I take no prisoners.

I want to be a super hero because I am a romantic
And there are too many girls out there who are in dire need of romance!
I want to be, their one minute man.
Yes! Lisa White, I want to be YOUR one minute man,
Yes! Ashley Burgdorf, I want to YOUR one minute man, TOO.
I am Super Hero E2002.

I am always there for you.
You can IM me
Phone me
Meet me
I just want you to know, that whatever you’re going through
I share your pain.

I am Super Hero E2002.
I will make you realize that you have “woman power”
And there is ONLY one nicer guy out there than the one you’re dating.
I am that ONE! I am THAT super hero you’ve been waiting for.
Yes Melody Berry, I want to be YOUR one minute man.
Your Super Hero E2002.

Sibo Lin's Poems from the Wadi Slam(4/18/03)


Don’t throw that dollar away!
A buck can go a long way

Just dial 10-10-220, 1 and then the number you want to call,
And you’ll receive up to 20 minutes of long distance calling for only a dollar

Which is pretty handy, now that my girlfriend bought a cell phone that when set in silent mode, can double as a Hello Kitty Vibrator.

Love. Cheap and easy. That’s the way I like it.

Actually, that’s the way I like everything. Cheap and easy.

Ronald McDonald is my idol
Sure, he wears white gloves and touches little kids a lot
But it’s OK! Because
He has the dollar menu.

Cheap and easy.

Big n’ Tasty sandwich, one dollar
Medium serving of America’s favorite fries, one dollar
Hot apple pie, fifty cents.
Or two for one dollar.

And the McChicken actually tastes like chicken!

My friends call me
The Cheap Asian
Which is absolutely incorrect. More accurately, I am
The Asian Cheapo

How many people do you know
spent only two fifty on their prom outfit?
That’s two dollars, fifty cents.
Or two McChickens and a hot apple pie.

How many people do you know
Buy toilet paper in extreme bulk
When it’s on sale?
And I mean I have mountains of buy-one-get-one-free rolls of
Teepee ammo

And whether I’m eating at Wendy’s, McDonald’s,
Or even McDonald’s Diner
I always order the free water

Because the only thing better than
Cheap and easy
is free.

Which is why I’m going to start my own country
where everything is free
And I’ll call it
the Free World

Think of all the problems that would be solved!
Poverty, hunger, war, telemarketing, prostitution.
This idea is going to bring peace and love into the world
And you can become a charter member of the Free World.

All you have to do is
Give me something for free
And you are in!

And I’ll take anything
Free food, free toilet paper, free unlimited cell phone minutes…

Ok. maybe I’m taking this a little too far
After all, the best things in life do come at a cost

Like a mesmerizing cup of Cherry Cordial
From our wonderful host, the Wadi Cafe
Or a pint of Chai so addicting
I find myself in a worse situation than
Whitney Houston taking a vacation in
The crack fields of Colombia.

So I think I’m going to go support our host and
buy a steaming
Cup of Chai.
It may be more than one dollar…but it’s worth it.

And if any chicks out there would like my company tonight, I’m sorry, I’m not free. I’m $1. I take cash, credit cards, or McChickens. No CODs.

the future

My vision is blurred
Maybe I should go
put in my contacts
But I won't always have contacts
to correct my Myopia.

When looking at the future
Everyone is a little

Even Ron Rhodes
Our trusted meteorologist with his
Three degree guarantee
Is only guessing when he says that it’s going to rain on Sunday

And if he can’t see the future
Then who can?
Most of us don’t have Doppler radar
Or even a fake Jamaican accent

So call Miss Cleo.
Miss Cleo knows the truth.
Or at least her guess is as good as mine

I know I can’t predict the future.
If I could, I would have put my money on Syracuse
Winning the March Madness tournament
Instead of Purdue

But I’d settle for simply being able to see the near future.
Which I can’t.

Should I go to the party?
(get stoned like the women in Africa)
Should I take a sip, just one?
(and get so plastered I’ll make Nick Nolte look like a newbie)

I wish I had a car as pimped out as the one in
Back to the Future
Because I could go to the future
Save the world, get the girl
And find out the answers to some of my more pressing questions

What classes should I take next year?
That depends….on…

What college do I want to apply for?
That depends….on…

What do I want to major in?
That depends...on…

What do I want to do when I grow up?
I don’t know.

Maybe that’s the beauty of the future.
No one knows.
It’s all a surprise.
Even for Ron Rhodes.

And in the end,
I’d rather live the moment
To its fruitation
Than follow a television psychic’s prediction.


Yoyoyo…my friend Tom be going to Prom with his mom who’s wearing pompoms made in the capital of Vietnam.


When I freestyle, I feel like da bomb.

My name is Lin. I always win. I kick so much butt that you don’t know where my foot has been. Much to my chagrin I used to play the violin. But that was really my wussy twin. My twin was a nerd. He’d laugh when the teacher said Ich bin ein Berliner. What a loser.

His dream was to be like Dracula…2000. To be bullet proof and be able to levitate while making out and to make lots of moola. But the most impressive thing he could do was recite the quadratic formula. Good thing I voted him off the peninsula.

And he liked to be challenged, mentally. Like once someone asked him to rhyme a word with orange, and he was like, “orange? you better give me a better challenge.” Wurd.

My nerdy twin was a wussy. Like once he meet this girl who was really sassy, and his eyes gave her a passy, but he was too nervous to act classy and ended up using a cheap pick up line.

“Do you go to the library a lot?”
“Because you have fine written all over you.”

Oh. My. God. It was at that moment that I knew my twin had to go. His appearance and actions was embedded into the minds of all his would-be-lovers as Sibo. Me.

So I took him out into the woods for an execution. Sure, it might have been illegal, but I was just helping out natural selection, evolution. He was gene pool pollution, and I was the solution. But as I got rid of my twin, I felt his soul trying to take over my body, using Confucian techniques.

So I don’t know how much longer I can keep rhyming. My twin’s soul is really messing up my timing.

I think he’s going to take over…[shudder]

Can I borrow 35 cents? I need to call my mom and tell her I just met the girl of my dreams. X = negative b…

I am the nerd and I am back! You can ignore me but you will never get rid of me!


You see that
I'm Asian,
and think,

He's probably smart,
and plays either the violin or piano.

And I'd love to have to right to get pissed off,
But I don't.

You're right,
I have a 4.0, I don't remember the last time I called anyone a ho,
And I play the violin AND piano.

Funny how your prejudices can be accurate at times.
But when you cross the line and judge me as
Foreign, submissive, snobby, or more

I get pissed off.
Yes, I'm polite,
So I won't call you a ho

But life has a nice way of screwing over hoes like you.

Tuesday, April 15, 2003

The Quiet World by Jeffrey McDaniel

In an effort to get people to look
into each other's eyes more,
and also to appease the mutes,
the government has decided
to allot each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.

When the phone rings, I put it to my ear
without saying hello. In the restaurant
I point at the chicken noodle soup.
I am adjusting well to the new way.

Late at night, I call my long distance lover,
proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you

When she dosen't respond,
I know she's used up all her words,
so I slowly whisper I love you
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breath.

Monday, April 14, 2003

The Jerk by Jeffrey McDaniel

Hey you, dragging the halo-
how about a holiday in the islands of grief?

Tongue is the word I wish to have with you.
Your eyes are so blue they leak.

Your legs are longer than a prisoner's
last night on death row.

I'm filthier than the coal miner's bathtub
and nastier than the breath of Charles Bukowski.

You're a dirty little windshield.

I'm standing behind you on the subway,
hard as calculus. My breath
be sticking to your neck like graffiti.

I'm sitting opposite you in the bar, waiting
for you to uncross your boundaries.

I want to rip off your logic
and make passionate sense to you.

I want to ride in the swing of your hips.

My fingers will be digging up in you like quotation marks,
blazing your limbs into parts of speech.

But with me for a lover, you won't need
catastrophes. Because the same things that
attracted me in the first place,
will ultimately make me resent you.

I'll start telling you lies, and my lies will sparkle,
become the bad stars you chart your life by.

I'll stare at other women so blatantly,
you'll hear my eyes peeling.

Because sex with you is like Great Britain:
cold, groggy, and a little uptight.
Your bed is a big, soft calculator
where my problems multiply.

Your brain is a garage
I park my bullshit in, for free.

And you're not really my new girlfriend,
just another flop sequel of the first one,
who was based on the true story of my mother.

You're so ugly I forgot how to spell!
I'll cheat on you like a ninth grade math test.
And break your heart just for the sound it makes.

You're the this we need to put an end to.
The more you apologize, the less I forgive you.

So, how about it? You, me, and a bucket of cafe ole?

Sunday, April 06, 2003

GI Joe by Beau Sia

Ice cream
gotta let myself go
when I flow
mow my Beau!

Prove that (?)
I'm coming down with your sweat
Wrecks (?)
All this thing and the best
I gotta brick house
and I built her like it
you know
I just don't wanna tell you
you gotta clico(?)

Who's that toy soldier
trying to play me out like a toy soldier
You can't replicate me with your mirrors
I'm not a mirror-like type of person
I'm a shadow
you know like a vampire
like invisible

and sometimes I'm like
through the air yo
through the air yo
through the air
I'll fly through the air

Can you fly through the air?
Cuz your wings aren't like my arms
My arms are like wings
and other things
sometimes I hide daggers in them
cuz I'm like
you know when the guy has the secret pocket in his arm
I got one of those

I bust you with it
Come on in the street
and when you come to the street
corner where I live
I will straight up make you feel bad that you came to
my street corner

I'll make you
English muffins that you don't like to eat
cuz I know you secretly love bagels
I know the type of person you are
I got you figured out from the beginning

I'm winning
It rhymes
with tinning

I'm getting much thinner than I used to be

I was a chubby kid at the age of eleven how does that happen? well I went to modeling school and everyone made me feel insecure about my physical appearance so I decided to lose some weight and I

joined the swim team and that was great
but then
I started swimming

so I can fly through the WATER TOO

What are you gonna do?
Land, air, and sea
I feel like a GI Joe

You can't beat me
Right, raw
raw, wrong
you're wrong
I'm right

You're letter B on a scantron
I'm letter D
the correct answer

You messed up
You shouldn't have cheated off that Chinese kid
You should have cheated off me
that amazing kid with
Kid Amazing
Yeah that's my sidekick

You didn't know
You didn't know
You didn't know
But I didn't know either
because I'm just like Zen
I don't have to know either

I just like

and I feel it
and I feel it

This poem is not served justice unless you listen to its mp3. Listen here! Also, I'm not sure on the lyrics at some places. If you can help me transcribe this song correctly, leave a message on the post! Thanks.

Friday, March 28, 2003

The Geek Wants Out by Ernest Cline

At first glance
I probably appear to be a somewhat ordinary,
somewhat average looking fellow.
Calm, harmless, at ease.

But this is by design.
You see, it is through decades of research and rigorous training that I have crafted this façade of normalcy.

And now, through intense concentration,
I am able to function in a social setting.
I can speak at length with educated people about
pertinent matters of public importance,
such as literature,
or the current political climate in Europe.

I am capable of conversing with you
without ever revealing that just underneath the surface
of this manufactured veneer
there hides an altogether different person.
A monster, some might say.
My alter-ego.
He is the opposite of the image I project.
He is the antithesis of Cool.
He is the LAST person you want to get trapped in a conversation with.

He is The Geek.
The obsessive science fiction movie watching,
comic book collecting,
Monty Python dialogue memorizing,
Dungeons and Dragons playing GEEK
that I struggle daily to keep hidden from the world.

But The Geek Wants Out.

He want to talk to you.
He wants to give you his doctoral dissertation on why
The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension
is the greatest fucking film of all time!

He wants to bitch slap you because
you’ve never seen Big Trouble in Little China.
What? Have you been living in a fucking cave?!

He wants to kick your ass in Star Wars Trivial Pursuit.
And he will.
Because he’s a fucking Geek.

And he wants his toys.
He wants the complete set
in mint condition,
still in the box.
He wants every item on the planet that is even remotely related to Ultraman.
Because Ultraman is Airwolf!

He could give a squirt of piss
about sports or politics or rhetoric.
Such things are of no consequence to him.
What matters is the release date of the next Lord of the Rings movie!

You see, The Geek can’t wait.
The Geek has no patience.
He wants what he wants when he wants it.
And all he wants is stupid shit!

He wants his own Tardis.
He wants his own light saber.
He wants to buy a DeLorean and he wants to drive it 88 miles per hour.

He wants movies.
He wants to see the Director’s Cut.
He wants the impossible to find Japanese bootleg with
6 minutes of never-before-seen footage.

He wants to watch Blade Runner. Again.
He wants to watch Brazil. Again.
He wants to watch A Clockwork Orange.
Again and Again!

But I deprive him of these things, as best I can,
until I can no longer ignore his voice
screaming in my head.

I am Jekyl. He is Hyde.
I am Bruce Banner. He is the Hulk.
Especially the Hulk from issues #272 to #378.

But no longer!
I am putting a stop to all this nerdy shit right now!
I’m an adult, for Christ’s sake!
And this body isn’t big enough for the both of us.
One of us has to go, and it’s gonna be him.
I banishing the Geek forever to the Phantom Zone,
just like in Superman II !
Because, in the end –
there can be only one.

Nerd Porn Auteur by Ernest Cline

I've noticed that there don't seem to be any porno movies
that are made for guys like me.

All the porn I've come across
was targeted at beer-swilling sports bar dwelling alpha-males
Men who like their women stupid and submissive
Men who can only get it up for monosyllabic cock-hungry nymphos
with gargantuan breasts and a three-word vocabulary

Adult films are populated with these collagen-injected
liposuctioned women
Many of whom have resorted to surgery and self-mutilation
in an attempt to look the way they have been told to look.

These aren't real women. They're objects.
And these movies aren't erotic. They're pathetic.
These vacuum-headed fuck bunnies don't turn me on.
They disgust me.
And it's not that I'm against pornography.
I mean, I'm a guy. And guys need porn.
"Like a preacher needs pain, like a needle needs a vein,"
Guys need porn.

But I don't wanna watch this misogynist he-man woman-hater porn.
I want porno movies that are made with guys like me in mind:
Guys who know that the sexiest thing in the world
is a woman who is smarter than you are.

You can have the whole cheerleading squad,
I want the girl in the tweed skirt and the horn-rimmed glasses:
Betty Finnebowski, the valedictorian.
Oh yes.
First I want to copy her Trig homework,
and then I want to make mad, passionate lover to her
for hours and hours
until she reluctantly asks if we can stop
because she doesn't want to miss Battlestar Galactica.
Suma cum laude, baby!
That is what I call erotic.

But do you ever see that kind of a woman in a contemporary adult film?
Which is why I'm going to start writing and directing Geek Porno.
I shall be the quintessential Nerd Porn Auteur.
And the women in my porno movies will be the kind
that drive nerds like me mad with desire.

I'm talking about the girls that used to fuck up
the grading curve.
The girls in the Latin Club and the National Honor Society.
Chicks with weird clothes, braces, four eyes, and 4.0 GPAs.
Brainy articulate bookworms, with MENSA cards in their purses
and chips on their shoulders.

My porn starlets will come in all shapes and sizes.
My porn starlets will be too busy working on their PhD to go to the gym.

In my kind of porno movies the girls wouldn't even have to get naked.
They'd just take the guys down to the rec room and
beat them repeatedly at chess
and then talk to them for hours about Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle
or the underlying social metaphors in the Aliens movies.

Buy stock in some hand cream companies
because there is about to be a major shortage.

And I'm not just talking about straight porn. Oh no.
There should be fuck films for my nerd brethren
of all sexual orientations.
Gay nerd porn flicks with titles like "Dungeons and Drag-queens."

This idea is a fucking gold mine.
I am gonna make millions,
because this country is full of database programmers
and electronics engineers
and they aren't getting the loving they so desperately need.
And you can help . . .

If you're an intelligent woman is interested in breaking into the adult film industry,
and if you can tell me the name of Luke Skywalker's home planet,
then you are hired.

It doesn't matter if you think you're overweight or unattractive.
It doesn't matter if you don't think you're beautiful.
You are beautiful. . .
And I will make you a star.

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

What The Doctor Said by Raymond Carver

He said it doesn't look good
he said it looks bad in fact real bad
he said I counted thirty-two of them on one lung before
I quit counting them
I said I'm glad I wouldn't want to know
about any more being there than that
he said are you a religious man do you kneel down
in forest groves and let yourself ask for help
when you come to a waterfall
mist blowing against your face and arms
do you stop and ask for understanding at those moments
I said not yet but I intend to start today
he said I'm real sorry he said
I wish I had some other kind of news to give you
I said Amen and he said something else
I didn't catch and not knowing what else to do
and not wanting him to have to repeat it
and me to have to fully digest it
I just looked at him
for a minute and he looked back it was then
I jumped up and shook hands with this man who'd just given me
something no one else on earth had ever given me
I may have even thanked him habit being so strong

Happiness Epidemic by David Hernandez

WIthout any warning, the disease
sweeps across the country
like a traveling circus.

People who were once blue,
who slouched from carrying
a bag of misery over one shoulder

are now clinically cheerful.
Symptoms include kind gestures,
a bouncy stride, a smile

bigger than a slice of canteloupe.
You pray that you will be infected,
hope a happy germ invades your body

and multiplies, spreading merriment
to all your major organs
like door-to-door Christmas carolers

until the virus finally reaches your heart:
that red house at the end of the block
where your deepest wishes reside,

where a dog howls behind a gate
every time that sorrow
pulls his hearse up the driveway.

Tuesday, March 11, 2003


FRIDAY APRIL 18 @ 7:30 p.m. at the Wadi cafe
Over in the area by stadium 16....if you need directions, e-mail Lisa at
also e-mail if you are interested in participating...thank you

Thursday, March 06, 2003

The Enemy is Cake by Sissy Taylor

Sitting there, staring back at me....this hunger that isn’t real is filling me
And I know that if I give in, I will only regret it later
To the outside world, all this contemplation and fear
Seems crude and ignorant and in fact obscene
But this struggle is something that I go through everyday
To find this person inside of me
That doesn’t need it anymore
That doesn’t rely on it to tell me that I’m loved
Because love isn’t made of flour and butter and eggs
Love isn’t gone in the 2.5. seconds it takes to cram it in my mouth
Love is this thing that I have to find inside myself
The enemy is cake

URGES By Poetri

I have the urge to jump over the counter at McDonalds and
make my own Chicken McNuggets.
Cause I’m tired of telling them that I want them fresh and
I’ll wait the five minutes and
they still give me some hot, nasty, microwave, re-cooked ones!

I have the right mind to slap the lady that tells me,
“They are fresh.” No, they’re aren’t!
Don’t you ever have the urge to just punch people?
Sometimes for no reason, but especially when they do or say something stupid.
Too bad, I think sometimes, that my nice body doesn’t react to my mind’s first reactions.

Cause whenever I walk into a library,
I have the urge to start yelling.
Then I wanna punch the first person that tells me, “Shhhh, this is a library.
Like I don’t know!
I have this cruel urge to slap anyone that says libary. It’s a library!

I have this weird urge to walk into Supercuts and demand a haircut,
even though I know they don’t cut black folk hair.

My urges are mean. They’re like my evil twin.
Like I have the urge to go grab that girl’s booty right there.
Everyone who knows me, knows I would never do that, though.
I mean, of course, unless she asked me.

I have the drive to go rob a bank on broke days
or go steal some money out of a cash register on some days.
Thank God I would never actually do that.
Yet, am I criminal for thinking criminal thoughts?
A hoe for thinking hoe thoughts?

I have the urge to go stand on the 405 freeway and
hold my hand up and see how many cars I can get to stop.
I have the urge to get hit by one of those cars
to see who would come to my funeral.
Just cause I have the desire to find out who really loves me…do you?
Am I the only one? Do other people think about doing things that they would never do?
Am I the only one that says to myself…What if?
What if I did this? What if I did that?
What if I stood in the middle of the Beverly Center buck naked?

Okay, maybe you don’t think that and
maybe that was just a little too much information,
but you know what am I saying.
What if we all acted out our urges?
I’d be dead or in jail, right now, or in insane asylum with Unsane.
Trying to refrain from thinking that I’m on the Midnight train to Georgia,
with Glady’s Knight and one Pip, with a busted lip, and a messed up hip,
still talking ‘bout that trip on the Midnight, man, we done flipped
if we acted out our impulses.

I have the urge to keep rhyming like that.
I have the urge to become a cop so that I can arrest other cops.
I have the itch to tell the IRS that they can keep calling and sending mail, but
I’m not gonna pay them the money I owe until I get the money.
I have the longing to tell telemarketers to kiss my ass!
I have the urge to splurge, no work, just play all day,
walk around cussing all day, having sex all day,
but I can’t do that. I won’t do that.
I’m a full fledge Christian. At least I try to be.
That doesn’t mean I don’t have urges.
That doesn’t mean I don’t slip and fall sometimes…okay a lot of times.
I have the urge to slap people that criticize us when we do fall.
When we fall victims to our urges, our desires, our sins.

Not all my urges are bad and cruel and senseless.
I have some nice urges, some sad urges,
things I need to do urges, things I want to believe urges.
Like I have the urge to believe that things really happen like they do in the movies.
Soon as I step out of the movie theater, reality erases that urge.
I have the urge to ask you out.
Shyness always blocks that one.
The urge to cry in public,
my manhood bullies that away.
The urge to sing…
Yolanda Adams or Kurt Carr and the Kurt Carr singers.
I usually act on this urge and
don’t let me put Michael Jackson in the walkman.

Urges are a funny thing. Can you judge a man by his urges?
If so, then I am a pretty weird guy, leading a double life.
But, I don’t think so, urges are what they are.
Quick thoughts thrown at our brain from whichever angle.
When we decide to act on these urges good or bad, then we become them.
Most of us rationalize and think.
And thank GOD that most of us don’t act on all of all urges.

straw to gold

Love by Beau Sia

first performed at Marymount Manhattan College, New York City, fall 1996

I think love is the most beautiful thing
in the world,
and I don't give a fuck,
because I have no original ideas.
I'm a pathetic man
whose goal is to read poetry
in order
to get women
to fall in love with him,
and you'd think I was reprimanding myself
and revealing my horrible dark side
by saying that,
but I was really saying
"women who hear this, fall in love with me, or else,"

because that's what it comes down to --
an ultimatum,
life or death,
and sure, maybe I'm being extreme,
but you walk around and tell me
that things aren't extreme,
I've seen a man jack off to a gap window display,
so don't tell me that love isn't important.

and maybe you didn't get that series of lines,
that's OK,
most of them are subtext
designed to impress people
who know too much about art,
all you need to listen to is
the 12 percent
which contain words like "fuck,"
and "ass,"
and "ride my dongstick, you naughty schoolgirl."

because in a poem about love
we all need to know the relevant things,
because we're all looking for the complete definition of love,
if only we could open our encyclopedia brittanicas
and look up love and know,
but love isn't that easy.

they say cupid loved my so called life
and when the show was cancelled
cupid cried and cried and cried and
decided that he was going to fuck up
all of humanity,
and this is why china has a trouble with its birthrate
and arkansas rhymes with date rape
and iraq is iraq,
and the fat lipo-sucked out of california
could be
its own island.
but this isn't a poem about geography,

this is a poem about love,
the bane of my existence,
the reason why I hate valentine's day
and halloween,
which is about ghosts
and I think you know where I'm going here.

I'm going to the land of girlfriends of halloweens past,
and maybe I've only got three ghosts in this land,
but this doesn't mean that they don't bring their friends,
who are the ghosts of girls who have rejected me,
because girls rarely travel alone in this land
. lydia is from this land.
I used to kiss her
while listening to
the cure's "just like heaven,"
now I don't see her anymore,
so that song makes me sad,

why must we associate music with
our love lives?
I'm not trying to be profound here,
I'm just saying that music really takes me
back, way back,
and I can't explain the memory process involved in that,
because I am not a psychology major,
and maybe
my problem with picking up women
has to do with me always asking,
"what's your major?"
but that only makes me as cheesy
as 90 percent of guys
looking for women,
and 86 percent of them have women,
so what's the deal here?
maybe I shouldn't think of women in terms
of picking them up,
and maybe I should open up my sensitive side,

but really,
the sensitive side sucks.
I've been there.
you can only imagine the kinds of sweaters
they make you wear.
it's not fair,
love is not fair,
and war is not fair,
and I don't care what anyone has to say about
any of that,
I feel unloved,

I'm sorry I need people
to tell me I'm cool,
I'm just that way.
aren't you?
am I the only one?
I know that I can't be that

but you don't want to
understand me!
you just want to hear the part
where I talk about my small dick again,
because the asian man will always be plagued
by this rumor
until he is brave enough to fling it out
and say,

this is not the direction
I wanted to take
this poem.
honestly, I just want to be in the arms
of my true love, in a house, in a room,
in a wonderful, perfect world with our
two children,
a boy and a girl,
helga and lamar,
but maybe I shouldn't have said this,
woody allen taught us
that marriage is a death trap.

I'm almost as old as his girlfriend.
she could be the long lost sister
I've been looking for,
maybe my mother gave her away
when we lived in china,

wait, I never lived in china.
I think I've begun lying in this poem.
I was hoping to talk about love
for 3.4 minutes
and then
come to a conclusion,
somehow defining love
within the poem,

I don't have any answers
and I'm looking for help from anyone,
because love has got me fucked up
and dying,
because I feel retarded without anyone to hold me,
and maybe that's sentimental,
but what's wrong with sentimental?
I just need love --

to self: fuck you, I'm OK!

you see, I can't even decide what I need
much less understand what I'm saying.

you see, all I'm saying
someone love me.

Finding Me by Jenny O’Reily

Walking down 42nd and Broadway, I feel alive
Until I look at a man in a passing car and realize that at this moment, I am no different in my life
See I thought I found myself, what was amazing and beautiful in me
Until I realize that I’m just like the next person in life that finds them self as an amazing individual
See, I can get up and be different, stand out, pay attention, and be ravishing to all who grace upon me
But until I come to terms with this person inside, I can’t find who I really am
An ex-lover told me that I was beautiful; that nothing compared to me
And I was the one who ended the relationship
You see, he was the one person in the world that came so close to the truth, the person inside,
That I had to let him go
Because the beauty he saw, that was right in front of him
Is something that I still can’t see