“Writing is who I was, writing is who I am, and writing is who I will be!”
-Gabriel I. Green
So I recently met Gabe while attending his opening for his open mic venue at the Grenaider Lounge. He has a personality and presence that commands your attention and once the words come out of his mouth you have no choice but to respect him. He is not only a great host but also a lyrically spellbinding poet. You can catch him every Wednesday hosting at The Gateway at the Grenaider Lounge 3101 McDougall Detroit, and guess what? It’s Free.99 Take advantage of the arts the city has to offer. Below is a piece he wrote for the 30 day poetry challenge for national poetry month.
Finger Snaps
So I’ve been performing poetry
for a little while now.
And I’ve been watching
and listening to others
long enough to know
what I REALLY want.
I want some finger snaps.
Oh yeah, I would love to write a poem
that could spark the revolution.
Use my words as an alarm clock
for you soul.
Awakening your mind
from the slumberous ignorance
of what the mass media
has force fed your sub-conscious
to create what we call our
“Perfect little soicety”.
Become the militant lyrical mercinary,
systematically taking over the world
one poem at a time.
Or be the voice
that finally brings to voice
the many conspiracies
that you and me
run into on the daily.
World class research
provided by Ray Ray
at the barber shop.
Who sells dvd’s that say
Jay-Z is the devil,
have you scared to throw up the Roc.
Using words so big that
Webster had to refer to Oxford
who had to refer to Google
who had to refer to Wikipedia
to find the real meaning.
But I’d rather just settle for
finger snaps.
And who wouldn’t wanna write
the greatest love poem.
Delievering sonnets sweet enough
to make Shakespear blush,
have every woman in attendance
eating out of the palm
of my composition book.
My metaphors plucking heart strings
as gentle as harp strings
creating melodies for your soul
sweeter than angels singing.
And similies that gently
penetrate your eardrums and
stroke your intellectual sexy.
I would love to write
a great sex poem.
The type of poems that leave
women wet and palms sweaty,
where the only proper responses are
“Oh My” or “Whew” or “Giggity”.
Most likely that’ll result in
a phone number here or there
after the show,
which turns into a possible booty call.
Or maybe that nice extra long hug
from the cutie up front.
Ah, but I’d really settle
for some finger snaps.
I promise that’s all I want.
Finger snaps, finger snaps, FINGER SNAPS!
That is unless this is a slam.
Then and only then
would I settle for a 10.
Cause snaps can only do so much.
But if I can get just enough 10’s
it’ll become just enough wins
to bring my workforce days to an end
and poetry will make my ends — meet.
But I guess it all comes back
to finger snaps.
Cause finger snaps mean
the people really dig what you’re sayin,
on in lamen poetry terms,
that means you’re “cold”.
And while some poets
aspire to be cold,
I aspire to change my name
to Kelvin.
Yeah that’s right, Kelvin
scientific for absolute zero.
So while other poets’ flows
will simply chill you
or maybe frost-bite you,
my poems will absolutely freeze you.
freeze your tongue
and the ink in you pen too.
Making for an easy amputation
of any competition,
and never their ambition,
but rather judges’ attention
whenever someone mentions
spoken word without Gabe
ooops, I meant Kelvin.
But for now,
I’ll settle for a few
finger snaps.
© Gabriel I. Green
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