“To anyone who has ever wanted to die: I have been told sometimes the most healing thing we can do is remind ourselves over and over and over, other people feel this way too.”
Don’t miss this remarkable poem from Andrea Gibson, featuring at Button Poetry Live.
“I’ve got a word problem. I keep meaning to ask for help, but won’t admit I’m hurting.”
Don’t miss this phenomenal poem from Mila Cuda, performing during the finals of the 2017 Get Lit Words Ignite Classic Slam, the largest youth poetry tournament in Southern California. Order Get Lit Rising today at simonandschuster.com, and join the #LiteraryRiot at getlit.org.
In-Depth Look: Hanif Abdurraqib – “At My First Punk Rock Show Ever, 1998”
Appreciating poetry is often about patience: sitting with a poem, meditating on it, and re-reading it multiple times. With spoken word, we don’t always get a chance to do that. This series is about taking that chance, and diving a little deeper into some of the new poems going up on Button.
“We come here to see blood, like all boys who sneak past their sleeping fathers in ripped jeans.” ———
There are a lot of things to comment on in this poem– the power of its opening and closing line, how efficiently it’s constructed, how an entire relationship is illuminated by just a few scenes and lines. I’m particularly struck by how Abdurraqib uses place; right away, the title is evocative, but the first few lines go even deeper into what this place is– and what this place means. It’s one thing to understand “punk show” on an intellectual level; it’s something else to feel it– both in terms of its sights/smells/sounds, and the emotional energy that crackles through the relationships present in the poem.
For aspiring poets (maybe those readying their chapbook submissions), this is a valuable lesson. We sometimes think of “setting” as a fiction term, but poems have settings too, and especially with spoken word, creating a concrete, specific setting can do an enormous amount of work in terms of bringing the audience into the poem. It gives the reader (or listener) some ground to stand on, so they can be more fully present and open to the other elements of the poem.
Find more of Hanif Abdurraqib’s work here, and be sure to check out his new book, “They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us,” here!
“When your name is pronounced wrong your entire life, you start to identify with a mistake.”
Don’t miss this remarkable poem from Mady Park, performing during the semifinals of the 2017 Get Lit Words Ignite Classic Slam, the largest youth poetry tournament in Southern California. Order Get Lit Rising today at simonandschuster.com, and join the #LiteraryRiot at getlit.org.
In-Depth Look: Blythe Baird – “Yet Another Rape Poem”
Appreciating poetry is often about patience: sitting with a poem, meditating on it, and re-reading it multiple times. With spoken word, we don’t always get a chance to do that. This series is about taking that chance, and diving a little deeper into some of the new poems going up on Button.
“I’ve noticed that people only stopped calling me victim and started calling me survivor when I stop talking about it.” ———
This is a poem that does a lot of work. On one level, it’s a stirring, important statement about trauma and healing in the context of rape culture. While the national conversation is driven by flashpoints like Harvey Weinstein, Kevin Spacey, and #MeToo, this poem “zooms in” on sexual assault and its aftermath, telling a deeper, fuller story in a very limited amount of time.
In addition to that, I’m struck by how a line like “watch me build an empire from the ashes of every single thing that tried to destroy me” relates to spoken word not just as an “activity” that people do, but as a specific cultural practice. The idea of “this stage” being one of the only platforms that people (whether they be survivors, members of under-or-misrepresented groups, young people, or anyone who does not naturally have access to attention and representation) have to stand up and speak their truth is a profound lesson on the value of this community, as well as the responsibilities that come with being part of that community.
I hear the title of this poem as a direct rebuke to that ever-present contingent of audience members and online commenters who bemoan (often in gendered and racialized terms) how “political” so much spoken word is. As this poem demonstrates: there’s a reason it’s so “political.” There’s a reason so many survivors choose to tell their stories through poetry. Performing can be therapeutic. But it isn’t *only* therapeutic; it isn’t *only* about the performer. The act of telling our stories, of saying the things that we need to say, is also a radical, community-building endeavor, one that both brings people together… and challenges them.
