Our vulnerable Claire composes and performs her own verse at every performance. Here is a sampling from last weekend's shows.
Darkness stains my imagination
Thoughts kept apart like pagination
Spilling forth ink like it's my blood
While those squealing pigs root in the mud
Those kids at school - they're all sheep
Like life's zombies, they walk asleep
No art, no poetry, they're unawares
No cities burn within their tears
All they do is drink football beers
And get fat and pregnant by 24 years
They'll quail beneath my verse that sears
All these people all over the 'verse
Boring and bored, their lives are a curse
Nothing touches their souls
Nothing burns in their hearts
They just watch "The O.C."
And eat chips til they fart
Every hand in the game
Every bedpost is notched
The play on their stage is torture to watch
Visit Claire's Room for her Big Box poetry.