A slam is a poetry competition where poets perform original work before an audience. it was started by Marc Smith a construction worker and poet in 1986. It was known as one of the most vital and energetic movements in poetry in the 90's. Slam was well received among young poets and poets of diverse backgrounds as a democratizing force.
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Apartment on Austin by Nova Venerable
There are always sirens outside your place.
Your condo always seemed to lean to the left,
the cement windows rusted like overused water pipes.
We lived on the first floor.
The mango skinned buzzer never worked.
A window in the door was cracked.
Broken into on Austin, stole everything but your big screen TV and your furniture
Because everyone with a grudge knew that
You worked nights at Joliet and days at Chicago Public Schools
Never enough time to sleep.
Our condo door was tainted white,
like a three year old sock washed every week,
the walls were the 49ers,
the carpet was rough,
like tangled hair,
everything you had no room for
piled on to shelves like children.
It smelled like alcohol, bad food and body odor mixed like margaritas.
You would always ask me to make your drinks,
Measure liquid with the width of my nine year old fingers:
Four fingers sangria,
two gin,
two tonic,
and one lemon juice.
Sometimes I remembered I would wake up,
And you would be standing in the doorway,
Smiling at us while we slept.
I would wrap my arms around your sunken stomach
Like tissue paper you would kiss my forehead, lay me back down,
Tie me in bows around my blankets
Because momma moved out and wasn’t around to do it no more.
By the time I was 10,
I was your wife,
your mother,
your best friend,
your sister,
and you were bitter.
I would feed you chicken soup when you were sick,
kiss your forehead to see how bad your fever was.
But I’m 17 now,
and we don’t even talk.
And sometimes I wish I could tell you
how much I miss you.
How I want to wrap my arms around
your sunken stomach like tissue paper.
That I love you,
and I wish you were here to be my Papa G again.
So you would know that I have a boyfriend
that loves me more than you ever use to.
But I guess you’re too busy rusting,
like cement windows,
to notice that your baby girl is a woman.
And how my memory will fade,
like your four finger sangria,
two gin
two tonic
and one lemon juice.
There are always sirens outside your place.
Your condo always seemed to lean to the left,
the cement windows rusted like overused water pipes.
We lived on the first floor.
The mango skinned buzzer never worked.
A window in the door was cracked.
Broken into on Austin, stole everything but your big screen TV and your furniture
Because everyone with a grudge knew that
You worked nights at Joliet and days at Chicago Public Schools
Never enough time to sleep.
Our condo door was tainted white,
like a three year old sock washed every week,
the walls were the 49ers,
the carpet was rough,
like tangled hair,
everything you had no room for
piled on to shelves like children.
It smelled like alcohol, bad food and body odor mixed like margaritas.
You would always ask me to make your drinks,
Measure liquid with the width of my nine year old fingers:
Four fingers sangria,
two gin,
two tonic,
and one lemon juice.
Sometimes I remembered I would wake up,
And you would be standing in the doorway,
Smiling at us while we slept.
I would wrap my arms around your sunken stomach
Like tissue paper you would kiss my forehead, lay me back down,
Tie me in bows around my blankets
Because momma moved out and wasn’t around to do it no more.
By the time I was 10,
I was your wife,
your mother,
your best friend,
your sister,
and you were bitter.
I would feed you chicken soup when you were sick,
kiss your forehead to see how bad your fever was.
But I’m 17 now,
and we don’t even talk.
And sometimes I wish I could tell you
how much I miss you.
How I want to wrap my arms around
your sunken stomach like tissue paper.
That I love you,
and I wish you were here to be my Papa G again.
So you would know that I have a boyfriend
that loves me more than you ever use to.
But I guess you’re too busy rusting,
like cement windows,
to notice that your baby girl is a woman.
And how my memory will fade,
like your four finger sangria,
two gin
two tonic
and one lemon juice.
this poem highlights the fact that her father may not have been the best but she will always love him. she grew up in a bad neighbor some examples are "your condo always seemed to lean to the left...cement windows rusted...buzzer never worked...window in the door was cracked...broken into on Austin." she had to take on a big responsibility young she made her dad alcoholic beverages that she will never forget. she had to take on being his wife, sister, best friend, and mother because her mom wasn't around anymore. she took care of him but she grew up and they didn't talk anymore. she has someone to take care of her and loves her more than her dad ever had. there were many similes in this poem "the cement windows rusted like overused water pipes.". "our condo door was tainted white, like a three year old sock washed every week.", "the carpet was rough, like tangled hair.", "i guess you're too busy rusting, like cement windows. "Because momma moved out and wasn't around no more. " this is an example of euphemism because she is basically saying mom left us but she said it a little better, mom moved out and is not around anymore.