Boston Poetry Slam

“Margaret Ciampa, 14 years old, finishing flowers at Boston Floral Supply Co., 347-357 Cambridge Street. Said to be the only flower factory in Massachusetts.” January 29, 1917. View full size. Photograph by Lewis Wickes Hine.

hyperallergic:

A new work by Banksy, one of many that recently appered. (via banksy.co.uk) (via Required Reading (May 27, 2012))

In honor of the Box of Doom slam tonight at the Boston Poetry Slam, here is a previous entrant in the Box of Doom from last year.

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv’ry Tay!
Alas! I am very sorry to say
That ninety lives have been taken away
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember’d for a very long time.
‘Twas about seven o’clock at night,
And the wind it blew with all its might,
And the rain came pouring down,
And the dark clouds seem’d to frown,
And the Demon of the air seem’d to say-
“I’ll blow down the Bridge of Tay”.
When the train left Edinburgh
The passengers’ hearts were light and felt no sorrow,
But Boreas blew a terrific gale,
Which made their hearts for to quail,
And many of the passengers with fear did say-
“I hope God will send us safe across the Bridge of Tay”.
But when the train came near to Wormit Bay,
Boreas he did loud and angry bray,
And shook the central girders of the Bridge of Tay
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember’d for a very long time.
So the train sped on with all its might,
And Bonnie Dundee soon hove in sight,
And the passengers’ hearts felt light,
Thinking they would enjoy themselves on the New Year,
With their friends at home they lov’d most dear,
And wish them all a happy New Year.

So the train mov’d slowly along the Bridge of Tay,
Until it was about midway,
Then the central girders with a crash gave way,
And down went the train and passengers into the Tay!
The Storm Fiend did loudly bray,
Because ninety lives had been taken away,
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember’d for a very long time.
As soon as the catastrophe came to be known
The alarm from mouth to mouth was blown,
And the cry rang out all o’er the town,
Good Heavens! the Tay Bridge is blown down,
And a passenger train from Edinburgh,
Which fill’d all the peoples hearts with sorrow,
And made them for to turn pale,
Because none of the passengers were sav’d to tell the tale
How the disaster happen’d on the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember’d for a very long time.
It must have been an awful sight,
To witness in the dusky moonlight,
While the Storm Fiend did laugh, and angry did bray,
Along the Railway Bridge of the Silv’ry Tay,
Oh! ill-fated Bridge of the Silv’ry Tay,
I must now conclude my lay
By telling the world fearlessly without the least dismay,
That your central girders would not have given way,
At least many sensible men do say,
Had they been supported on each side with buttresses,
At least many sensible men confesses,
For the stronger we our houses do build,
The less chance we have of being killed.

In honor of the Box of Doom slam tonight at the Boston Poetry Slam, here is a previous entrant in the Box of Doom from last year.

Yeah…I like it when the girls stop by.. In the summer
Do you remember, Do you remember?
…when we met..That summer??

[Chorus:]
New Kids On The block,had a bunch of hits
Chinese food makes me sick.
And I think it’s fly when girls stop by for the summer,for the summer
I like girls that wear Abercrombie and Fitch,
I’d take her if I had one wish,
But she’s been gone since that summer..
Since that summer

[Verse 1:]
Hip Hop Marmalade spic And span,
Met you one summer and it all began
You’re the best girl that I ever did see,
The great Larry Bird Jersey 33
When you take a sip you buzz like a hornet
Billy Shakespeare wrote a whole bunch of sonnets
Call me Willy Whistle cause I can’t speak baby
Something in your eyes went and drove me crazy
Now I can’t forget you and it makes me mad,
Left one day and never came back
Stayed all summer then went back home,
Macauly Culkin wasn’t Home Alone
Fell deep in love,but now we ain’t speaking
Michael J Fox was Alex P Keaton
When I met you I said my name was Rich
You look like a girl from Abercrombie and Fitch

[Chorus:]
New Kids On The block,had a bunch of hits
Chinese food makes me sick.
And I think it’s fly when girls stop by for the summer,for the summer
I like girls that wear Abercrombie and Fitch,
I’d take her if I had one wish,
But she’s been gone since that summer..
Since that summer

[Verse 2:]
Cherry Pez,cold crush,rock star boogie
Used to hate school so I had to play hookie,
Always been hip to the B-boY Style
Known to act wild and make girls smile,
Love New Edition and the Candy Girl
Remind me of you because you rock my world
You come from Georgia where the peaches grow
They drink lemonade and speak real slow
You love hip hop and rock n roll
Dad took off when you were 4 years old
There was a good man named Paul Revere
I feel much better baby when you’re near
You love fun dip and cherry Coke,
I like the way you laugh when I tell a joke
When I met you I said my name was Rich
You look like a girl from Abercrombie and Fitch

[Repeat Chorus]

[Bridge:]
In the summertime girls got it going on,
Shake and wiggle to a hip hop song
Summertime girls are the kind I like,
I’ll steal your honey like I stole your bike

[Verse 3]
Bugaloo shrimp and pogo sticks
My mind takes me back there oh so quick
Let you off the hook like my man Mr. Limpet
Think about that summer and I bug,cause I miss it
Like the color purple,macaroni and cheese,
Ruby red slippers and a bunch of trees
Call you up but whats the use
I like Kevin Bacon,but I hate Footloose
Came in the door I said it before,I think I’m over you
but I’m really not sure
When I met you I said my name was Rich
You look like a girl from Abercrombie and Fitch

[Repeat Chorus]

[Bridge:]
In the summer girls come and summer girls go
Some are worth while and some are so so,
Summer girls come and summer girls go
Some are worth while and some are so so,
Summertime girls got it going on
Shake and wiggle to a hip hop song
Summertime girls are the kind I like
I’ll steal your honey like I stole your bike

Worcester SlamMaster Emeritus Bill MacMillan emotes during the 2011 National Poetry Slam’s Box of Doom. Bill is reading “The Tay Bridge Disaster,” by William McGonagall. Photo by Richard Beaubien.

Have you been wondering about the charming perfume that’s given the Cantab basement such atmosphere for the last nineteen years? You can blame our twisted bartender. Deep in the bowels (sorry) of the men’s room, Adam has concealed a concentrated package (ugh, sorry again) of the most obnoxiously odoriferous poems he could find: the Box of Doom.

Now the time has come to open the Box! Poets will draw “poems” at random from a trash can and have just three minutes to perform the piece of… art. Examples of the fine literature within may include pathetically unmetered sonnets about dead gerbils, diary entries from fourteen-year-old future slam poets, and excerpts of Kevin Smith’s Gigli. The slam will be judged by the audience and the winner will receive spectacular prizes, such as never having to perform said poem again.

Sign-ups will be available at the door on the night of the show.

Box of Doom t-shirts are now available! The fabulous logo was designed by Gary Hoare and is available in a variety of colors in men’s and women’s cuts. We’re selling them just a few dollars above cost and the proceeds will go to the Boston Poetry Slam. Neat!

Doors for the show open at 7:15. The open mic begins at 8:00 and the Box of Doom slam begins at approximately 10:00. The show is 18+ (ID required) and the cover charge is $3.

Box of Doom logo by Gary Hoare

Wanting to Die

madame-psychosis:

Since you ask, most days I cannot remember.
I walk in my clothing, unmarked by that voyage.
Then the almost unnameable lust returns.

Even then I have nothing against life. 
I know well the grass blades you mention,
the furniture you have placed under the sun.

But suicides have a special language.
Like carpenters they want to know which tools.
They never ask why build.

Twice I have so simply declared myself,
have possessed the enemy, eaten the enemy,
have taken on his craft, his magic.

In this way, heavy and thoughtful,
warmer than oil or water,
I have rested, drooling at the mouth-hole.

I did not think of my body at needle point.
Even the cornea and the leftover urine were gone.
Suicides have already betrayed the body.

Still-born, they don’t always die,
but dazzled, they can’t forget a drug so sweet
that even children would look on and smile.

To thrust all that life under your tongue!-
that, all by itself, becomes a passion.
Death’s a sad Bone; bruised, you’d say,

and yet she waits for me, year after year,
to so delicately undo an old wound,
to empty my breath from its bad prison.

Balanced there, suicides sometimes meet,
raging at the fruit, a pumped-up moon,
leaving the bread they mistook for a kiss,

leaving the page of the book carelessly open,
something unsaid, the phone off the hook
and the love, whatever it was, an infection.

Anne Sexton

poetrysociety:

The Day the Audience Walked Out on Me, and Why.
Denise Levertov, May 8th, 1970

(via spokenwordacademy)