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Slam Poetry

By Ben Fogler

Ring ring, who's on the phone? (I mime picking up a phone and putting it to my ear because I’m really good at object work)

Hey diva, it’s me, the Boss Diva,


Gasp! (I throw the phone to the floor)

I can’t face the truth,

Make no mistake, the mistake that I’m making is that I mistake my delulu for trululu.

Snap! (I snap) Tra La LAAAA, I’m Captain Underpants! (comparison, because he thought he had powers when really he was just hypnotized by mischievous children)

Or not, because he’s copyrighted. (immense laughter. I’m hilarious) But am I just a copy of him because I rewrote myself until I was in the right?

I’m getting ahead of myself. Myself. My selfie. Oh, one second, where did I put my phone? (I reach for it on the ground)

Hold up! (dramatic pause)

No, hold me. (I hug myself)

Someone, hold me, I’m lonely, I’m only lonely because nobody will hold me-

Wake up! More of that Captain Underpants nonsense.

Tra La Loooooooserrrrrrr.

I’m lonely because of…

Mark Zuckerberg.

Grah. Grah! (this next one is a cry of despair) Grahhhhh!!! Ice Spice keeps it a stack,

Why can’t I?

Maybe she keeps it for me. Safekeeping, but I’m still weeping while she’s easy-sleeping.

Ice Spice, I want it back! I want the stack back! Or I’ll attack!

You’d better stop playing with ‘em riot, or I’ll riot.

Forget Ice Spice, this one’s about me.

Riff-raff, smish-smash,

Knick-knack, paddywack, give this old dog a…home. (audience makes sympathetic, nay, empathetic noises, because I’m a relatable slam poet)

Hey old dog. Maybe all you need is a little doggy date, huh? Would you like that? Good boy.

Oh wait, I forgot.

You’re neutered.

Sorry. No dates for you.

What do we want? World Peace? When do we want it?

…3 to 5 business days. (immense laughter again)

(I pick up the imaginary cell phone that I threw to the ground at the beginning)

Hey God, are you there God, it’s me, Margaret-


No. It’s me, period.

Hi God, I’d just like to get a refund on something,

Could you redirect me to customer service,

I’m not satisfied with my purchase.

No, don’t put me on hold! God? I know you’re busy,

Hey, hey, please listen.

I don’t really want a refund,

I just want to talk.

Yeah, you’re right, talk is cheap. Heh.

End call.

(I throw the phone to the ground again)

They put screen time notifications on iPhones because they’re so in control of you that they don’t even care if you know it.

There’s a retainer on my teeth so I can keep them perfect. Right now, 2 billion people don’t have access to clean water.

Everything you consume with your mouth is made of microplastics. Everything you consume with your eyes was curated for you by an algorithm that knows you better than you do.

I spent two hours yesterday on Instagram. I spent zero hours yesterday on…


And meanwhile, half the world lives in poverty.

Maybe I should stop pressing follow, and start pressing lead.

Enough is enough.

But how can I say that, when some people don’t have enough?

‘Nuff said.


(Uproarious applause. This entire poem was delivered with the exact same energy as Idina Menzel’s “Over the Moon” performance in Rent).


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