Spoken word poetry is a type of poetry that focuses mostly on the meanings of its words. It accentuates the tone in which the words are spoken as well as facial expressions and gestures. It incorporates different art forms such as music, theatre, and dance to make the poem come alive more than it would if it was just read from a page. An inspirational spoken word poet, Shane koyczan, explores his struggles throughout his life through his poems such as in "To This Day". He depicts how "when [he] was a kid [he] hid [his] heart under [his] bed because [his] mother told him that if [he] [was] not careful someday somebody is going to break it." He explains how hard it is to stand up for yourself in a world that teaches you to hate yourself, and in a world that asks you what you want to be but then tells you what not to be. This poem is reflectful of his childhood and all the things he thought he was going to be. Another spoken word poet, J Ivy depicts his struggles with his father leaving when he was very young in his poem "Dear Father". In the poem he asks his father "why couldn't [they] be together" and states that "Ma could've found a man, but I wasn't going to find no dad" which really depicts his confusion and guilt of his father leaving them. This poem is very forgiving, despite all the pain his father caused him and his family he still loves him and forgives him for what he did. Amir Sulaiman is another spoken word poet, and in his poem "She Said, I Prefer A Broken Neck", he explores how a woman feels about love and about men as a whole. He cites that "[he] knows that being a man is more than just being a male" which is very powerful and shows that he is very empathetic to how she feels about love. This poem is very sympathetic to the perspective of love to a woman who has had her heart broken.

Spencer Hook                                       The veggy effect

 

 

 

Style seems to be a very important aspect of our society, and I am all for a collared shirt and a pair of dress pants but when society starts telling me that eating meat is all of a sudden a fashion no no I get a bit disheartened. It is becoming fashionable to starve yourself, and force feed yourself food that you cant even pronounce and should win a game of scrabble just with its name. What happened to balancing your meals with foods from each food group? It is proven that that is what your body needs to be in its healthiest state. Vegetarians however are under the delusion that it is healthier to substitute the protein on their plates for a clump of grass they just pulled up from their "organic garden". If withholding necessary vitamins from your body is fashionable than I am proud to say I am almost as out of style as Lady Gaga. If this veggy revolution continues I believe we will have millions of martyrs on our hands who died at the clutches of a new illness called pork chop deprivation, and I don't think that's a very desirable outcome for these self proclaimed revolutionaries. People are actually more concerned with saving an animals life than their own and in my opinion that is absurd. Don't get me wrong I love animals and I would cringe at the sight of a baby cow being killed, but my gratitude goes out to that remorseless farmer who puts a steak on my plate. We eat meat, the animals reproduce, and the life cycle continues, that's just the way it goes however cruel it may seem to some people. I truly believe god didn't put animals on this planet just for scenery. So I think people need to get their head out of their grass, and start being practical.

I have a dream

 

 

 

100 years ago, a little boy strapped on hockey skates for the first time and stepped onto the placid ice of the lake. He found a comfort in this sport that guided him to the happiness he had been searching for, but the unjust hand of the rich plunged into his new found happiness and took hockey out of his life because his family could not afford it.

 

 

100 years later children all around the world still can not afford to play hockey. 100 years later the mannicured hand of the rich still pillages the dreams of aspiring hockey players. 100 years later, a privelage that should be available to every child is still squandered because of their financial circumstance. And we have come here today to voice our discontent.

 

 

For too long, poor children have been watching from the sidelines as their classmates and peers play the sports they love. For too long, money has dictated the outcome of childrens dreams. And now it is time for our rested bodies to rise up in protest of this unjust system and take back what privelage is righfully ours. Now it is time to unite as one team, rich and poor. Now it is time to show that every child deserves an oppurtunity to pursue their dream regardless of their financial circumstance.

 

 

But I have a dream that one day the once cold hand of the rich will reach out to the withered hand of the poor and offer a warm embrace. I have a dream that the ice of a hockey rink will soon be carved by both cheap and expensive skates. I have a dream that the quality of ones gear will not be seen as a reflection of ones worth. And I have a dream that a united team of the rich and poor will defeat the unbeatable squad of the uninclusive and pretentious.

 

 

Let every child skate alongside their friends and family.

 

Let every child feel the chill of the arena's air on their cheeks

 

Let every child feel the satisfaction of playing the sport they love


Only then will children be truly happy. Only then will there be true equality. Only then will the sport of hockey truly be the greatest sport in the world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

I walked into the hospital waiting room and sat down desperate for some good news about the lump that had been found on my shoulder 1 month prior. As I sat down I could feel the bloodshot eyes of the other ederly patients glaring at me trying to figure out what was wrong with me. The smell of sterylized medical equipment and blood made my stomach feel uneasy and was making the wait almost unbearable. A stretcher was being wheeled past at high speed as the person being cared for clung to thier life, and I could not help but think of the worst for myself. Ostensibly I appeared calm and collected, but inside I had been a mess for the month that this dreadful lump had been on my shoulder. The nervous tapping of the patients feet on the waiting room floor was slowly deteriorating my nerves and a minute more of this torture would certainly be the end of me if this lump wasn't. The flash of a bright white coat caught my eye and a cold hand suddenly rested on my shoulder. I turned around to meet the sympathetic eyes of the doctor, and followed her into the examining room. A frigid bed was waiting for me to sit on in front of a wall filled with medical supplies, and there was a chair for the doctor an arms length away. She pulled up the chair and as she looked up our eyes met, and without any words being spoken I knew my fate. Suddenly the rubbing alcohol and blood had removed their pungent odours from my nose, and the sounds of the heart monitors and children crying had faded into nothingness. All that was left was a blurred outline of the doctors slim figure and a ringing in my ear so clear that it seemed to have chased all other thoughts or memories from my head. I tried to move or at least procure some sort of thought but it was no use, I might as well have been dead.

                                                 
                                                            Happily ever after

George looked up from shoeing the horse to see the outline of Curley's wife in the doorway of the barn. They were alone. "What do you want?" George said shortly.
     "Well my plan is easy as pie" she retorted slyly. "I heard your friend Lennie talking about the ranch house youre gonna buy together".
     "Damn blabbering idiot! George exclaimed angrily under his breath. "Well the guy doesnt know what hes talkin' about hes dumber than a sack of potatoes!". A cool stare set over her face and as quickly as George's temper had flared up, he fell silent. This was the calm before the storm and George knew he was in for it now.
     "Whats it to ya anyways?" George finally said meekly
     "Youre a smart guy George, do I seem happy to you?"
George contemplated the different things he could say, then finally rested on what he believed would anger her the least.
     "Why... I reckon so ma'am." George said calmly
     "Well I aint'!" Curley's wife snapped angrily, trying to mask the sorrow that had suddenly crept into her voice.
But like Curley's wife had pointed out, George was a smart guy and he immediately decrypted the poorly hidden message Curley's wife was trying so hard to keep to herself.
     "So I reckon livin with Curley aint no walk in the park?" George added in a tone in which he hoped would lighten the mood.
Curley's wife wiped away a tear with a quiet laugh that reassured George that he had not angered her with this accusation.
     "How could you tell?" Curley's wife stated facetiously. "Curley cant read between the lines that I aint happy and never will be able to, so I don't know why I don't just get outta dodge."
     "Where would you go?" George inquired with a sudden fascination for her hypothetical escape.
      "Wherever the wind takes me!" She said confidently "I've always wanted to be in the movies, and a man once offered me a job but I turned it down because I was marryin' Curley, and what a mistake that was."
She looked off into the distance most likely envisioning her life without a ball and chain.
      "All that glitters is not gold you know" George added insightfully
      "What do you know about glitter Mr. Milton?" Curley's wife added in an innocent and playful manner.
     "Not a damn thing ma'am, but that's exactly my point."
     "You got my attention" she said while stepping closer to where George was kneeling.
George took a break and stood up from shoeing the horse, and sat on a hay bale.
     "After me and Lennie buy that ranch you should come and live there with us!" He said surprisingly calmly considering the weight of what he had just suggested.
     "Its a diamond in the rough but we can fix it up easy, and a woman's touch would sure help a lot" George added in a desperate tone.
      "George, you don't have to convince me none" she said with a happiness that couldn't be contained, "I'm in."

    

The man, The legend

 

 

Just another kindergartener walking home from his first day, Spencer Hook had not yet learned the importance of looking both ways before he crossed the street. Little did he know a truck carrying radioactive waste had violently swerved to avoid a collision with this stupidly innocent boy and covered him with radioactive waste.

Flash forward to the present day; Spencer is trying to live his life to the fullest despite his hidden identity as the "Clark Kent" of Penticton. He has played almost every sport during his childhood years but the one that he enjoys the most is Hockey. His busy life playing hockey, volunteering with Special Olympics, and juggling the many subjects he takes at school is a tough task even for the Super Hook himself. The many powers he possesses are seemingly useless because there is one that continues to elude him: the ability to combat stress. Each day there is one block that Spencer cringes at the very sound of, like the sound of nails on a chalkboard. Each day he can feel himself getting weaker and weaker at the hands of his kryptonite: Math class. In his books, math is death and there is no super power that can change his understanding of the subject. When Spencer graduates and rids himself from the clutches of his kryptonite, he plans to pursue a career in physiotherapy, retiring from his job as Super Hook, and leading a normal life free of radioactivity.