New tricks
Posted: Thu Nov 26, 2015 6:16 am
Poetry Slammin
I entered in this poetry slam
Two minutes all you get
Ah the competition will be tough
My biggest challenge yet.
But I'm really not a slammer
So I tried to change my style
And get some beat into my poetry
Throw away that country style.
Cause slam was born in city streets
Not some outback country town
So if I started spruiking bush verse
The judges are sure to frown.
I listened to some doff doff music
Just to try and get a little beat
Learnt how to hold my fingers
And to shuffle my big feet.
I found some poetry on the Internet
but that really was a strain
the thumping kept repeating
and it nearly blew me brain.
I tried to shorten up my verse
Get inspiration from the street
But I found no matter how I tried
The rhythm had me beat.
And I was gonna wear a new hat
Ya know the kind that gangsters wear
Or get some body piercings
Put some colour in my hair.
Buy some of those low cut jeans
Show off me underdak
I'd wear the bloody things so low
When I bend you'd see my crack.
I brought a holey tie die shirt
from Saint Vinnies near my place
but it felt so strange I threw it out
Mate I wasn't in the race.
So when it came down to the crunch
To change I wasn't game
I'll always be a bushie mate
yeah I'll always sound the same.
So here I am in my Akubra hat
and my old vest that fits the bill
Cause I'm just an old bush poet
So you judge me as you will.
Bob Pacey (c)
I entered in this poetry slam
Two minutes all you get
Ah the competition will be tough
My biggest challenge yet.
But I'm really not a slammer
So I tried to change my style
And get some beat into my poetry
Throw away that country style.
Cause slam was born in city streets
Not some outback country town
So if I started spruiking bush verse
The judges are sure to frown.
I listened to some doff doff music
Just to try and get a little beat
Learnt how to hold my fingers
And to shuffle my big feet.
I found some poetry on the Internet
but that really was a strain
the thumping kept repeating
and it nearly blew me brain.
I tried to shorten up my verse
Get inspiration from the street
But I found no matter how I tried
The rhythm had me beat.
And I was gonna wear a new hat
Ya know the kind that gangsters wear
Or get some body piercings
Put some colour in my hair.
Buy some of those low cut jeans
Show off me underdak
I'd wear the bloody things so low
When I bend you'd see my crack.
I brought a holey tie die shirt
from Saint Vinnies near my place
but it felt so strange I threw it out
Mate I wasn't in the race.
So when it came down to the crunch
To change I wasn't game
I'll always be a bushie mate
yeah I'll always sound the same.
So here I am in my Akubra hat
and my old vest that fits the bill
Cause I'm just an old bush poet
So you judge me as you will.
Bob Pacey (c)