Hmm...

The point is not the points. The point is the poetry.

These are the words of the Chicago construction worker, Marc Smith (SO WHAT?!), the man who invented slam poetry. I do slams once or twice a month, when they have them. Tonight's slam was an interesting one. It was the Valentines Day Slam with three parts Love Me, Do Me, Leave Me. In other words love poems, sex poems and break up poems.

For the first part I did a poem about an internet girlfriend (a fictional one, I promise). My sex poem was about Harry Potter Erotic Fan Fiction. Then I did a break up poem making fun of break up poems.

The internet girlfriend one, always goes over well. But I rocked the second round, in which I got three 10s and some other scores I don't remember. Then the third round I got another ten, but the other scores were average.

There was a winner named for each round and one for the cumulative score. I won the second round with my poem. The prize was somewhat awkward (flavored lube), but it was great.

At this point you are probably wondering about the title of this post. Well I should be estatic, but I'm not. I was happy when I did the poem, and right after. I was happy when I saw my scores. But when I found out I won, my first thought was "what am I supposed to do with flavored lube?"

I realized I have reached a sort of poetic nirvana. The only thing that matters to me is the poetry, not the points. Of course that will all go down the tube when someone gives me a 2, and it hurts.