Sarah Kay - “Montauk”

"Time goes to Montauk to take a break." 

Performing at Inner City Arts in Los Angeles. Subscribe to Button on YouTube!

Aromantic [a slam poem]

I constantly witness it.

People being in love.

It’s literally everywhere, in the media, and in real life, I am constantly surrounded by it.

And frankly, sometimes I end up feeling disgusted.


Because I can’t feel like this.

I can’t fall in love; I will never be able to say anything romantic

Because I’ll never have someone to say them to,

Because I never will have someone.

All because I am unable to experience romantic attraction.

There’s a word to describe people like me.


And you probably never heard it

Because no one pays attention to us.

No one acknowledges our existence, we’re invisible.

People will invalidate our identities, and tell us nonsense like,

“You’ll find the right one someday.”

“Everyone experiences romantic attraction.”

“You’re cold-hearted.”

“It’s not real.”

All because we are unable to experience romantic attraction?

All because we can’t fit into society’s stupid norms?

How would you feel if I invalidated

Your romantic attractions?

And tell you,

“Romantic love is just an illusion.”

You wouldn’t like that, right?

So why do you do that to us?

Why do you do it to me?

Why do you question us, instead of shutting up and accepting us,

For who we are?

Why are you in denial?

We are human.

We are not bitter people.

We are not robots.

We are people. just like you,

We can still love. Platonically.

The same way people love their friends and families and their pets.

We are capable of emotions,

Just not romantic attraction

And there’s nothing wrong with that.

If you think there is,

There’s something wrong with you.

Because we can still be happy single,

We can still have a good time.

Because contradictory to popular beliefs,

Romance isn’t needed to be happy.

Since when did rape become apart of our culture?
When did we forget the meaning of no?
When did we forget boundaries?
When did we learn to walk fast down the street, phone to ear, head down?
When did we learn that boys will just be boys?
When did we learn that oh he’s mean to you? That means he likes you?
When did it become okay for me to get put down by other girls for wearing a tank top in 97 degree weather?
When did it become okay for me to get catcalled by boys for wearing shorts in 97 degree weather?
Since when do I have to be sent home from school because my belly button is showing?
Since when does my body have to be hidden to keep him from being distracted?
Since when did his education become more important mine? Especially since over half of them can’t even comprehend the word no?
Since when did what I was wearing even become a factor?
Since when did me wearing shorts, mini skirts, tank tops, crop tops, and tube tops imply I want you to have sex with me?
When did it become okay for you keep touching me even when I’m telling you get the fuck off of me?
When did my virginity become something you decide when I lose?
Since when did my body stop being my body?
—  \When did my body stop being my body//

Poppin’ Fresh by Jacob Dodson

I was never very good at putting my thoughts into words, but I was always able to find what I felt in song lyrics and poetry.
I was never very good at saying no, because I hate letting people down. I should’ve had the courage to tell you to stop because I hate myself for what I let you take from me.
I was never very good at saying the right things. I choke on my words when I try to respond because I don’t want to slip up and say something I’ll regret.
I was never very good at remembering what the square root of 361 was, or how to find the percent error of how many grams of sugar are in a piece gum.
I was never very good at turning my research papers in on time or remembering all 44 presidents of the United States.
I was never very good at loving myself because we are taught to put others before us and i did that far too often, losing myself in the process.
I was never very good at handling my suicidal thoughts or talking myself into putting the razor away, instead I was good at losing 10 pounds in a week and always knowing how important it is to count every single calorie that enters my mouth if any enter it at all, because nothing tastes as good as thin feels, right?
I was never very good at feeling normal because instead of feeling happy and sad, I was cold and dizzy because I hadn’t eaten in weeks or i was depressed but i couldn’t cry because I couldn’t feel anything at all besides the cold metal sliding across my skin.
I was never very good at putting my thoughts into words, but maybe this time it’ll make sense.
—  I was never very good at anything
I wrote a slam poem

I never thought it would be true
But love is the only reason I’m still here today.
I’m not in love, I’m around it.
I see it and feel it.
I see the love in my mothers eyes when she tells me I’m the greatest thing that’s ever happened to her.
I see love in the way my dad looks at me like I’m the greatest gift he’s ever gotten.
I hear love in the way my step mom laughs at my dads corny jokes.
I feel love when my aunt holds her new baby and can’t stop smiling.
And these moments are what I live for. These moments are what keep life worth living and it took me so long to realize that.
It took me so long to realize love is the answer,
but being in love didn’t have to be.

We try so hard to make people love us that we forget to love moments too.

The last time I tried to write love poems, I was sixteen and infatuated. When I wrote my breakup poem, it made me realize I have the capability to write about more than just anxiety and sad stuff. Basically, I’m branching out and trying my hand at more happy poems. Here’s the first stanza of my work in progress. Started it on the ferry home today, just to see if I could do it.

"You can light a lighter on the first flick, and with it you set the oxygen in my lungs on fire, causing my chest to crumble momentarily before my ribcage explodes in a blaze and my teeth become blades cutting the air with each word I whisper to you."


"Anxiety Group" by Catalina Ferro

"Apparently we’re all going to die. The girl to my left worries the satellite will hit her, while the women to my right worries it’ll hit a nuclear power plant. Then we’re all fucked."


In preparation for National Poetry Month in April , Zealous Scripts will be accepting poetry submissions!Here’s how it works.Submissions are open to ANYONE. You don’t necessarily have to be a “writer”In order to submit, send an E-mail to

The E-mail must include

  1. Subject Line of the E-mail= April Poetry Submission
  2. Your name- whatever name you choose to use, pen name, made up name etc. Note: anonymous will not be accepted however, the purpose of this is to give recognition!
  3. Any contact information you wish to include: website, blog, E-mail or social media.
  4. A copy of your poem which must be thoroughly proofread and ready to be posted. It must include a title. A short description of what the poem is about, the inspiration or what poetry means to you is optional but encouraged.

There is no limit to the poem’s length.The piece can be sent in a Microsoft word document, PDF file, or just as text within the E-mail itself.While I’m open to reading all of the wonderful, diverse, creative topics you all have will no doubt write about, please keep content under a rating of “R”, Zealous Scripts reaches people of all ages and is not labeled as a NSFW website. Therefore any content submitted that does not comply within the rating will not be considered.

  1. Optional – a photo of yourself or one that is relevant to the content of the poem

When? Submissions are open TODAY February 27, 2015 through 11:59 pm March 27, 2015 (United States, Eastern Time).As they are selected you will be notified via E-mail that you have been selected, what date and time it will premiere on the website and of possible other opportunities for your submission!This should be an excellent opportunity for you to be recognized but also for the writing community as a whole to come together to support each other.  I encourage you to offer praise, feedback, ask questions and reach out to each other! If you have any questions or concerns please E-mail them to I look forward to reading your submission! XO Tiana Lopez

There are nights when I hear myself whispering your name, like a forgotten prayer, only said when I’m half-awake. I swear, I still find you tucked under my bed sheets, like a long lost book mark, slipped between the pages of my favorite book. You are some sort of serendipity, I find you in the oddest of places. I find you in the scent of my hair, like lemon-lime and dandelions, in the revving of a car, in the silence of a school library, the blending of crushed ice. There are times, when I still find pieces of you inside me, like you have never left at all.
—  Annyka Dela Cruz “You sound like a whisper, I always say whenever I breathe”
tell the young girls

Tell young ones
The truth about love.
How it is almost always lost.
Almost never enough…
That it is often just that. almost.

And “almost” is a poison
Will taste good on the tongue
But bitter in the throat.
Will sit in your stomach like question.
will never give an answer for the tears
It makes of you.

Tell them of the tears.
How the tears are happily ever afters
They are prince charmings and glass slippers.
They are romance novels and first kisses..
Running away from us.
Leaving us with our wounds and wonder.
Force-feeding us reality in its heavy muck.

Prepare them for reality.
There is beauty somewhere in the pain.
For we are a pained people — us humans
a crumbling city conquered by our wants
A wanted mob fiending for the delusion of love
that love is perfect. enough.
no matter what we smile
through in the
none can escape
The late night why’s.
None can escape the irrelevance of
our lies.
Nor the cold pillow
Nor the moment of clarity
In our beds
Where not even touch
Comes close to enough.

C. 2015 Rashawna Wilson

I say “I am a feminist”
and you laugh
because “Women have rights already”

And while you laugh at this movement
you are laughing at the 15 million girls who will become child brides this year alone
you are laughing at the millions of young girls sold into sex slavery
and at the 70% of women in India who are victims of domestic violence
and at the one in five rape victims in the United States
and at all of the people in the world who are discriminated against
because of something as simple as their gender

and in turn, I laugh at you
for your lack of an understanding
towards a movement that affects you 
and everyone that you know and love

But I do not laugh at your rape jokes 
I do not laugh when you tell me to “Shut up and make you a sandwich”
I do not laugh at your utter negligence to an issue as important as this

Because basic human rights are not funny
The very real experiences of those victimized
solely due to their sex
is not laughable
The suffering of my entire gender
is not a fucking joke that you are allowed to make.

—  so stop treating it like it is. 

"To My Future Children" - Scout

"To my future children, eat your vegetables. Cry whenever you feel like. Don’t let another kid tell you not to where orange because it makes it looks fat, look fat if you fucking want too. Fat is a concept not a reality."


Neil Hilborn's OCD just became the first slam performance ever to top 9,000,000 views on YouTube! Congratulations Neil! Keep an eye out in the next couple weeks for some exciting announcements regarding his debut full-length collection of poetry, OUR NUMBERED DAYS, coming out this spring (and check out his chapbook in the meantime)!