After several months, I performed a new piece at the HawaiiSlam. I wasn't great, I didn't totally suck, just not great among some really fantastic competition. Frankly the last few slams have kind of sucked. In comparison, this slam is what slam is all about (you kind of have to be there).

I think I caught the bug again. This was such a lark this time, but I really, really love being up on stage. I was ill-prepared, but not nervous, and I knew I could do better with both writing and performance (and rehearsing would definitely help along with not waiting until the day-of to write).

Here is the piece:

TSA

I'd like to tell a joke.

When I fly, I feel like
A cow, going to slaughter

The plane itself isn't so bad
No. It's the security line

The narrow Switchback corded
Snakeline cattle chute of doom

Through which one must shuffle slowly
In close proximity to other tired
Frightened sweating cowpeople
Each saddled with 30 or 40 pounds
Of muscle cramp inducing travel crap

Once you've slunked to the front of the line

There's an officious security person
Unhappy in his or her uncomfortable
Uniform of unnatural fabric, itching, sweating
Peering at each approaching vassilant
With beady, hateful, suspicious eyes
This is the ID checker

It's at this point, having been raised Catholic
That I suppress a powerful urge
To genuflect, as I hand over my boarding pass
And belatedly attempting to strike the same pose
Captured on my ID

But it's not finished there
The X-Ray machine still looms ahead

And it's worse because you are urged
Into expediancy

Take your shoes off!
(and hope your feet don't smell after sweating
through the first line)

Grab a bin! Dump out half your luggage
So that an inattentive operator
can theoretically scan your stuff more effectively

And while you wait for the nimrod
With the belt buckle ahead get wanded
Your bins pass through the other end, digested
And you are helpless as your shoes, luggage
And expensive laptop careen
Off the end of the conveyor belt

I understand why this system was put in place
And while I don't particularly  want to die
At the hands of an ideologically deficient asshole
All the security measures in the world
Won't stop violence

Security lines aren't the solution
Because hijacked planes are not the problem

Until we get it through our heads
That everyone everywhere
Is entitled to a basic, decent life
That a kid in Sudan deserves at least a meal a day
That a kid in Saudi Arabia deserves to learn math
That a kid in Bangladesh deserves clean water

And that we don't own the copyright on freedom!

Until we act, everyday with that knowledge,

Security is a joke.