The Low Bar in My Poetry Slams

Spinning round
To kiss the ground
The sky was much too high
So I’ll keep these expectations
Grounded

Lower the bar
Close your eyes
Forget the stars

This is life
It’s not fair
Get a helmet
Mines made of all these things:

Friends and alcohol, these things aren’t so small
The sweet lady Mary Jane, the pills I take to help me fall
Asleep

Which came first
The chicken or the egg
Is it better to have loved and lost
Or never to have loved at all
Is it better to feel pain
Or to be numb to it all

I don’t have the answers, but maybe the wise worm at the bottom of the bottle knows

I’ll let you know,
When the answers fall
From the sky above
Or risked on the breast of a dove
Sent out to find dry land
In this sea of alone.