Buddy Wakefield

(1974 / Louisiana / United States)

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Buddy Wakefield (born June 4, 1974) is an American performance poet/slam poet. He is a two-time Individual World Poetry Slam Champion (2004 and 2005) whose latest works have been released by Righteous Babe Records (CD) and Write Bloody Publishing (books).
Buddy Wakefield was born in Shreveport, Louisiana and raised in Baytown, Texas. In 2001, he left his position as an executive assistant for... more »

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  • lolly mouse (9/19/2016 1:40:00 AM)

    We Were Emergencies - by Buddy Wakefield

    We can stick anything into the fog and make it look like a ghost.
    But tonight, let us not become tragedies.
    We are not funeral homes
    with propane tanks in our windows
    lookin’ like cemeteries.
    Cemeteries are just the Earth’s way of not letting go.
    Let go.
    Tonight, poets, turn your ridiculous wrists so far backwards
    the razor blades in your pencil tips
    can’t get a good angle on all that beauty inside.
    Step into this
    with your airplane parts.
    Move forward
    and repeat after me with your heart:
    I no longer need you to fuck me as hard as I hated myself.
    Make love to me
    like you know I am better than the worst thing I ever did.
    Go slow.
    I’m new to this,
    but I have seen nearly every city from a rooftop
    without jumping.
    I have realized that the moon
    did not have to be full for us to love it,
    that we are not tragedies
    stranded here beneath it,
    that if my heart
    really broke
    every time I fell from love
    I’d be able to offer you confetti by now.
    But hearts don’t break, y’all,
    they bruise and get better.
    We were never tragedies.
    We were emergencies.
    You call 9 – 1 – 1.
    Tell them I’m havin’ a fantastic time.

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Best Poem of Buddy Wakefield

In Landscape

There is a chance
you will show up laughing
made of fortified fan blades and Ferris wheel lights
true of heart and best foot forward
our long-awaited love made easy,
remember for sure no doubt these things:
The joy,
we are a point of complete.
This life,
standing guard over your solitude.
My eyes
are monsters for most things approaching.
I'm probably gonna need a hand with that.
This heart.
This sleeve.
Neither one of them things is all that clean.
But the rain,
my lucky number,
been doin' her part to make things right
for the light ...

Read the full of In Landscape

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