Spoken poetry

Great spoken poetry, wonderful talk !!!

Must see this


B
As Performed by Sarah Kay

Instead of Mom, she’s gonna call me Point B,
Because that way she knows that no matter what happens,
At least she can always find her way to me.

And I’m going to paint the solar system on the back of her hands,
So she would have to learn the entire universe before she could say,
“Oh, I know that like the back of my hand.”

She’s gonna learn that this life will hit you, hard, in the face,
Wait for you to get back up so it can kick you in the stomach,
But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air.

There is hurt, here, that cannot be fixed by band-aids or poetry.
So the first time she realizes that Wonder Woman isn’t coming,
I’ll make sure she knows she doesn’t have to wear the cape all by herself,
‘Cause no matter how wide you stretch your fingers,
Your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal.

Believe me. I’ve tried.

And, “Baby,” I’ll tell her, “Don’t keep your nose up in the air like that; I know that trick.
You’re just smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house,
So you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire to see if you can save him,
Or else find the boy who lit the fire in the first place to see if you can change him.”

But I know that she will anyway.

So instead, I’ll always keep an extra supply of chocolates and rain boots nearby,
‘Cause there’s no heartbreak that chocolate can’t fix.
OK. There’s a few heartbreaks that chocolates can’t fix,
But that’s what the rain boots are for,
Because rain will wash away everything if you let it.

I want her to see the world through the underside of a glass-bottom boat,
To look through a magnifying glass at the galaxies that exist on the pinpoint of a human mind,
Because that’s the way my mom taught me,
That there’ll be days like this.

“There’ll be days like this,” my Mama said,
When you open your hands to catch, and wind up only with blisters and bruises,
When you step out of the phone booth and try to fly,
And the very people you want to save are the ones standing on your cape,
When your boots will fill with rain, and you’ll be up to your knees in disappointment,

And those are the very days you have all the more reason to say “thank you”.
‘Cause there’s nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline,
No matter how many times it's sent away.

You will put the wind in win some, lose some.
You will put the star in starting over and over.
No matter how many landmines are up to the minute,
Be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny thing called life.

And, yes, on a scale from one to over-trusting,
I am pretty fucking naïve,
But I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar.
It can crumble so easily,
But don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.

“Baby,” I’ll tell her, “Remember your Mama is a worrier, but your Papa is a warrior,
And you are the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more.
Remember that good things come in three’s, and…so do bad things, and
Always apologize when you’ve done something wrong,
But don’t you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining.
Your voice is small, but don’t ever stop singing.
And when they finally hand you heartbreak,
Slip hatred and war under your doorstep,
And hand you handouts on street corners of cynicism and defeat,
You tell them,
That they really ought to meet your mother.”