A Reading From The Book of Timothy

It was explained to me
That at the Austin Poetry Slam
Among the regulars
There are 3 types of poets:

Writers, Competitors, and Performers

And if you aim to do well here
To win the love of audiences and judges
The esteem of fellow poets
You gotta be a little bit of all 3

But everyone's got a strong suit

Take the writers
These are the ones who think in metaphor
Who never once in their lives have just woken up in the morning
But who every goddamn dawning are wrenched from the oblivion of somnolence
They never see a stop sign on the road without thinking of the syntactical signification ... of pausing
If you tell them your heart is broken they will help you understand
By way of clocks, drums, shattered glass, oceans, demolition crews, Muhammed Ali, chemistry, or Pokemon
Bless their hearts.

And then there are the Competitors.
They are here to win. They are not here to not win.
If they do not win, they must know why.
Was it score creep was it a biased panel of judges
In the next round should they make the audience cry
Or should they make the audience pee themselves with laughter
What liquid should they elicit from the audience
They acknowledge that slam is a game of strategy
And they are tactical geniuses
Bless their hearts.

And then there are the Performers
I count myself in this number
We are the former theatre and debate kids
Who aren't into improv but who cannot wait
For three more minutes of your undivided attention
We thrive on the "Hey Girl Hey" and the "Spit Poet"
And the "I like your dress"
Because we wore this dress hoping you'd like it, and it's not a costume violation if you say it
We are in love with the microphone
And we can be exhausting to be around, but we are totes worth it probably
Bless our dumb, adorable hearts.

And while cataloguing poets this way might be slightly oversimplifying things
I have seen it born out in my time here
And if you think about the poets you know
I think you'll recognize most of them in this list

I say most of them.
Because I would like to offer up a 4th type.

I will call them the Heart poets
Because they are here, week after week,
To share their hearts with you
And to listen to yours.
These are the poets
Who offer first a kind word
And second a kind poem
They see hurt in the world
And they don't spit about it because it's trendy
Or because they hope you'll applaud
They're here to say love aloud

And sometimes they sing a poem
And at first you're like "That's weird"
But then you're like, "FUCK YEAH. MORE OF THAT."

If it were not for these poets,
We might sometimes get lost
In the search for applause
In our ambition
In gazing at our own navels

Heart poets make us purer
They remind us why it is important to be here

Thank God we have a Tim
Bless
Bless
Bless his heart