(I bought a floppy drive for cheap and found a lot of old poems. Thank you for reminding me where I’ve come from and where I’m going.)
To whom it may concern,
We all start as emotards. I have the photo to prove it.
You will write awful things and you will think they are good. You will write awful things and others will think you are good. You will write awful things and others will think you are bad and you will disagree with them but know in hindsight, they were write. You will write awful things and some will tell you that you are so bad, you should not write. Ever. And you should tell them to go fuck themselves.
This was my first ever workable slam poem. It was inspired by Big Poppa E’s “Wussy Boy Manifesto”. This is also the poem I used against Ernie Cline in 2001 and lost by a point. I have not edited this poem in any way (but I have provided audio of me reading it now):
nice guy manifesto
am a nice guy.
and when you’re under 30,
that isn’t a good thing.
i am tired of women telling me
a.) you’re a very nice guy
but you’re just not my type.
b) you are so sweet. i don’t want to ruin
the special friendship we have.
c) you’re not a ‘fuck me now’ guy.
you’re the relationship guy
and i’m not looking for commitment
if i had a dollar for every time i heard
a, b, and/or c,
i’d be driving the Mirth Mobile from Wayne’s World
i would think being a poet
would be enough to get me the girl of my dreams
but in this day and age you gotta have
the right car
the right clothes
the right taste in music
the right tolerance for beer
the right cologne
and you have to be
because there’s nothing unsexier about a man
who writes poetry, likes long walks at night,
gives foot massages, cooks romantic dinners,
and makes damn sure a woman has at least one orgasm
am i bitter?
but i’m getting there.
don’t come cryin’ to me
when you’re frat boy
Dodge Ram drivin’
12 pack of Bud swillin’ boyfriend of yours
breaks your heart for the millionth, zillionth
i’ve got better things to do
than listen to you bitch
about how you played with fire
and got badly burned
i’m not your dick in a jar
to be whipped out when you feel
go find some poor sucker
to be your emotional dartboard.
or better yet,
start dating nice guys
on a regular basis.
don’t wait till you’re over 30
and you’ve begun to collect
a menagerie of cats
to do so.
just don’t come near me,
you crazy bitch.
*Ahem* let’s look at some facts:
1. I am a good guy. Nice, well, depends who you are and what you’re into.
2. I like the last lap of a NASCAR race.
3. I am the dick in the jar. I should have that on a business card with a catchy slogan like “If you ever get tired of your vibrator, just break this glass and I’ll tap that ass.”
4. I have a cat and I’m over 30. With the new condo, I might get one more.
5. I am also a crazy bitch. I have references.
I’m getting too far off the point of this though. No one starts brilliant. You will fall on your face. You will bomb at open mics. You will cause break ups because your writing is so bad. You will learn how to say “fuck you” a lot. You will keep saying “fuck you”. And you will keep writing until you punch through the barrier of suck and you will keep writing.
In short, don’t lose hope. Don’t give up. Keep everything you write so you can look back on it and laugh and wonder what the hell you were thinking.
P.S.: My latest column is up at Specter Magazine, which you can read here.