POETRY (Part 1)

To the judges of the Nuyorican poetry slam:
What exactly are you looking for?
Must a poem sizzle and crackle like a steak on a plate,
Or. Must. There. Be. More?
Syncopatic rhythm and copascetic words,
Analogies laced with acidic tease,
Katanas as sharp as similes,
The sharp edge of a skilled metaphor,
Or stark and true imagery -
What exactly do you reward?

Can I talk about a brother's gay love?
Position male hands on male hips,
Describe two boys' tongues massaging
As their lips are interlocked in a tight kiss,
Swivel their pelvises,
Insert their penises,
Inside your mind
Until the scene is seared into your mind's eye?

Can I talk about a love that knows no bounds?
The never fleeting feeling of affection that feebly falters upon garnering attention?
The ins and outs of my daily highs and lows?
An ambition to learn that steadily grows?
Would any of that suit your taste?

If my words were bombs of knowledge dropped on your head with a clang,
Would you look more kindly on them if they were followed by a weighty line about Iran?
Would the rhyme even matter?
The heft of a clever play on words?
Is a lambaste at the American government what every slam audience wants? Deserves?

Or, is a high score garnered by a skilled performance?
The elevation of my voice at the particular line of my choice?
The monotony of my words interrupted by the bumps of my breasts?
The quiet repetition repetition repetition
Of a word meant to provoke thought?
Or the align/ment
Of two or three lines/meant
To leave fellow poets green with envy like lime/or/mint?

Let me tell you what I know about poetry!
Truth can be found within the spaces between its lying lines,
And hyperbole ushers in emotion like
A phone bill resembling the national debt makes your heart skip a beat.

Let me tell you what I know about poetry!
The craziness of craving caring from strangers
Is succored by the solace of a single stanza!
Songs from the soul scintillate
On the pointed pout of a poet
As she delivers a single moment's truth!
Every mark on a page is a testament to the poet's composition!
Every syllable uttered in performance is a salute to all that humanity has accrued!

Because poetry, at its very core, is nothing more than an observation,
An elaboration,
A condensed clarification
Of me and you.