In Their Own Words
Here are the members of Monterey Bay's slam team, along with excerpts from their poetry.
Thursday, July 24, 2003
Eden Duveyoung, 17
P.G. | High School Senior
I have an erection
And the whistling wind never noticed me
Cause I could give a shit
And my obsessive-compulsive absolution cannot
stand to be touched
And my own roundabout road to recovery cannot
stand to be rushed
So don''t furrow your brow when I can''t heed you
You''ve had your stint
Don''t be so proud that I need you.
Marc Cabrera, 25
Salinas | Editorial Assistant
I am not
and most certainly not American
I am hip-hop
And my blue jeans don''t burn
so much as they sag
half-way down my ass
I leave them there
to remind that white lady
walking towards me up the sidewalk
"No, I don''t want to steal your purse
but yeah, I do want to steal your limelight"
like you stole my older cousin
Rock ''n'' Roll
like you stole
Haven Duveyoung, 22
P.G. | "Professional Slacker"
I am the mirror that is all.
I reflect without a surface.
I loop with no line loss.
My head is my own torture cell and I am clawing
to find the weapons beautiful.
And I try so goddam hard.
I floor my engines in park.
So that when I lay panting, exhausted, overheated,
in desperate need of an oil change, smoke pillowing like
tired hookah seance...
I finally, back flat on the ground, see the stars.
I run myself in circles
just to stop the world from
P.G. | Piercing Apprentice
and I didn''t mean to be the first in an
hours, minutes, seconds revolution
but right then all the time-keepers froze
all the slots went blank
on the info-signs at grand central station
even big ben let his hands fold
leisurely across his towering chest
trading in tradition for purpose
the sundials took up a
sudden interest in shade
while atomic clocks threatened