Poet: Chris Olivares, 18
This is Chris’s second year participating in Louder Than a Bomb. He is a senior at Niles West High School.
Que the beat
slip slide my feet.
honks applaud in the street.
and its just you and me,
Chris, the smooth swiss
and his miss
its like interpretive
as you speak
from the jukebox
and i translate off of this
I use the tape to duck it on the cements
You use the tape to rape silence with cassettes
Bust a wave with my right arm, Suck it in to pop the chest.
Whipping MJ kicks
Until the sun sets.
Crotch grab the pants
Heel spin to freeze in my b-boy stance.
Arms crossed holding onto my gift
Crazy to you like
Jimi Hendrix riffs.
Angry looking puckered lips
But its only the style
Inside i smile
And swallow up the bliss.
Break the pose and flip up my converse kicks
One hand down and glued, and legs freeze Into a Nike swish.
As the boom box tap is mixed
With 1980’s B-Boy classics
like (“looking for the perfect beat (scratch effect) then “rock it” beat )
(tape mix scratch)
Hold it! sounds like there’s a glitch,
Open up the boom box,
The tape’s a little mix.
Put my finger through the hole and give a few twists.
Put it back into the player, hoping that it is fixed.
Push play as I am-looking for the perfect beat-and there it goes the beat is qued
All over again,
Just me and you- The beats and the melody
Moving my feet
And all day loving my D.A.N.C.E Setting my soul free.
I, thank the divine
For this ritual I perform,
Keep black and white as my uniform.
A little lethal weapon kid
With a hat one size too big,
But this only means there’s room for improvement, Robotic movement like Mr. Roboto Poppin and lockin’, my legs do all the talkin’
So the ticks from my knees say domo arigato.
But this is all you see on the outside,
The inner meaning of this practice
Goes beyond religious, it’s Spiritual healing for the crisis of my days,
From the poverty that I encountered as a young boy.
The 100 degree heat waves beating the spirit of the Houston slum Streets into my heart.
And at age 10, I let the voice of dance speak to me and it says:
“Take the chance to beak away from the pain (beatbox)
And to never succumb to the gangs and violence (beatbox)
Or the trauma of your beaten mama and your lives
That have been caught in this hellish whirlpool Spinning clock-wise (beat)
So you must take your talents and learn to head spin counter Clock wise
Counter Clock wise
To fight back and you must push and push to reach that “satisfaction.” push to reach that(satisfaction) so I.. (“satisfaction” by Benni Benassi beat)
So I’ll take these beats and feet to my grave.
So every chest pop, leg lock, head jerk
Arm swerve, head spin, head stop, foot lose to foot work
Never goes down in vain, but releases my pain.
This is why I love this beat,
this melody this practice.
This is why I move my feet.
This is my life My D.A.N.C.E. Driven (by) A. Natural. Cause.. (of) Ecstasy.