Below is the more video from Wednesday afternoon's tryouts -- this one with Ali Nelson, performing her poem "The Worst Kind of Person," along with text of the poem and a self-critique by Ali.
The Worst Kind of Person
By Ali Nelson
Our coverage, had a high premium
and wouldn’t kick in for a year.
Since you didn’t buy your part of the insurance,
I’m making sure you won’t get medical coverage.
I bet I made a nice salad of questionable material
for the cardiologist.
That’s what you get for
cheating in our battles.
They were toxic,
like the snakes curled in your hair.
Its once sweet aroma made me want
to snuggle into your darkness.
Now, the stench makes my stomach spastic
as it mingles with an alcoholic’s odor.
Your face looks old now,
a car crash I’ve seen and memorized.
I can’t look past how the broken glass
clings to your skin
and finds a home in your eyes.
I can’t even find comfort
in your stubble skin
that jabs my fingertips like straw.
I’d much rather kiss a scarecrow.
You’ve flung yourself back into
old bad habits.
The persistent marks on your liver
tell a better story than any song
you could write.
At least in a song,
you can fabricate over the mind grinding
shreds your fingers throw out.
Maybe you should have taken your hands
off your big boy toys
and written the next verse
of our mismatched harmony.
You are the worst kind of person.
I am the most recent fallen angel
to stumble into a game of
chutes and ladders,
and you best believe I will hold on for dear life.
For the first time,
I will let you slide down the chute
without taking a second glance.
Your screams remind me
of your senseless questions.
Why am I staring at my feet?
Because I’m more fascinated by my
chipped toe nail polish and callused
ankle bones than your
salt stained optics
that tell more truths than you
ever did.
You are the worst kind of person!
You paved the path for me to be this way.
Your footsteps were there before mine.
Running off with our umbilical cord
lifeline, testing its strength.
You believed it wouldn’t brake.
It did,
yet I’m not the one crying out
for attention and banging on closed doors.
Our ship has sailed and sank.
God, I would hate to be stuck on the Titanic
with you.
I would probably push you over long before
we hit that damn iceberg.
It’s funny how you say you have the maturity
of a 21 year old,
when you articulated your
I love yous like a 5th grader
who failed English.
You aren’t even smart enough
to realize you only want me
like a Nymphomaniac needs... well, you know.
Thank you, for leaving all your “creativity” with me.
She can buy my sloppy seconds
half off at Wal-mart.
That’s quality right there.
Did I mention
you are the worst kind of person?
Well, I’m not much better.
Self-critique by Ali
With our final performance around the corner, our Voces class assembled in the Wells Fargo to audition for who would get to perform a second piece. There are just simply too many of us to perform two pieces each. I rehearsed most of the morning to engrain the somewhat fresh poem in my brain. I originally didn’t get a spot to do a second poem, but a lovely fellow poet, Chloe, gave her spot to me.
It’s funny how many times I practiced the finished poem, and yet I still said a couple of lines I had taken out a few days before. I am very proud of how the performance went on stage. I did mess up more than a few times, but with my heavily sarcastic poem, I got some laughs. (A special thanks to Tescia and Nathan who helped me). It was my first time “auditioning” and performing my poem the way I did. My movements could have been better, but the fact that I even did some of them is a BIG change for me. I did have to take my poem up with me and I referred to it a few times. The adrenaline of the whole performance was very intense. It was amazing, and I can’t wait to do it again… all thanks to the Voces program.
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