This article has been a long time coming. Slam poetry has had it coming for a long time too. This mongrel half-breed of an art form is entirely disgusting. It combines the best of rap and the best of poetry and winds up with neither. Not as beautiful as Yeats or Shakespeare and not possessing good flow like rap. It serves no purpose. If you want to spit like Nicki Minaj, then spit like Nicki. Poetry is best when it is read silently and analyzed with the words often having several layers of meaning, which you cannot possibly decipher without the text in front of you. Putting any effort into your slam poem is a waste because I can’t analyze it in the one time you say it on stage. I swear it is the soy in our diet and the estrogen producing chemicals in our water that could lead anybody to producing and accepting such art forms.
I bravely navigated the quagmire of a society made up of lesser lifeforms (the slam poetry scene). I found through anecdotal evidence that it is made up entirely of hipsters and radical feminists complaining about how “hard” their lives are. Now here’s the actual problem, I don’t know if slam poetry is inherently awful – like France- or if it is just the people that happen to like slam poetry that are awful. I suppose it doesn’t matter because either way I have visibly shuddered at the crudeness of poetry, along with rap’s inability to properly accommodate these upper-middle class mixtures of narcissistic and overly theatrical personality disorders. All these poetry slams and university societies do is advertise just how utterly easy their lives are and how little they have of value to say.
Instead of wasting your time on this new painfully millennial medium, I implore you to try and rap. I implore you to join some actual poetry, perhaps you should have come to the event at our public library on March 5. As my grandfather once said, “Anything that hasn’t been around for at least 60 years isn’t worth pursuing.”