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The spoken word is generally done by overweight white chicks whose parents spent a small fortune to send them to art school so they can learn more techniques to offend people using performance art as a cover. It is shit.
I went to see XYZ Experimental Theatre last night, and Jennie performed the spoken word. Once my ears stopped bleeding, I really got into the performance.
by Corioscopy October 08, 2004
a)spoken word is a revival of an acient african art form. b)It is words spoken with a rhythm not necesarily a beat and not necesarily rhyming. c)Spoken word has a through line, it is soulful, it can be fun and beautiful and defiantely requires skill. d)often compaired to poetry
Tupac had some deep spoken word
(a section from)In the Event Of My Demise - Tupac Shakur
In the event of my Demise
when my heart can beat no more
I Hope I Die For A Principle
or A Belief that I had Lived 4
(a section from)In the Event Of My Demise - Tupac Shakur
In the event of my Demise
when my heart can beat no more
I Hope I Die For A Principle
or A Belief that I had Lived 4
by cactusnotmuchbetterthannocactus April 10, 2006
a spoken poem before This Time Imperfect off of AFI's 2003 Sing the Sorrow. Gibson Casian, Jade Puget and Smith Puget's younger haft brother reads the first part, Davey Havok reads the second part, and Hans Wold reads the last part. It is known to creep out and sadden listeners.
Spoken Word:We held hands on the last night on earth.Our mouths filled with dust, we kissed in the fields and under trees, screaming like gods, bleeding dark into the leaves.It was empty on the edge of town, but we knew everyone floated along the bottom of the river.So we walked through the waste where the road curved into the sea and shattered seasons lay, and the bitter smell of burning was on you like a disease.In our cancer of passion you said, Death is a midnight runner.
The sky had come crashing down like the news of an intimate suicide.We picked up the shards and formed them into shapes of starts that wore like an antique wedding dress.The echoes of the past broke the hearts of the unborn as the ferris wheel silently slowed to a stop.The few insets skittered away in hopes of a better pastime.I kissed you at the apex of maelstrom and asked if you would accompany me in a quick fall, but you made me realize that my ticket wasn't good for two.I rode alone.
You said, The cinders are falling like snow.There is poetry in despair, and we sang with unrivaled beauty, bitter elegies of savagery and eloquence.Of blue and grey. Strange, we ran down desperate streets and carved our names in the flesh of city.The sun has stagnated somewhere beyond the rim of the horizon and the darkness is a mystery of curves and lines.Still, we lay under the emptiness and drifted slowly outward, and somewhere in the wilderness we found salvation scratched into the earth like a message.
The sky had come crashing down like the news of an intimate suicide.We picked up the shards and formed them into shapes of starts that wore like an antique wedding dress.The echoes of the past broke the hearts of the unborn as the ferris wheel silently slowed to a stop.The few insets skittered away in hopes of a better pastime.I kissed you at the apex of maelstrom and asked if you would accompany me in a quick fall, but you made me realize that my ticket wasn't good for two.I rode alone.
You said, The cinders are falling like snow.There is poetry in despair, and we sang with unrivaled beauty, bitter elegies of savagery and eloquence.Of blue and grey. Strange, we ran down desperate streets and carved our names in the flesh of city.The sun has stagnated somewhere beyond the rim of the horizon and the darkness is a mystery of curves and lines.Still, we lay under the emptiness and drifted slowly outward, and somewhere in the wilderness we found salvation scratched into the earth like a message.
by Field Playa November 14, 2010
by mariamarie November 07, 2003
by Tylenol April 23, 2008
by VictoriaCrown1 March 10, 2018