It was an easygoing, uneventful Tuesday for the laity; but for the Panoptic Poets? The Providers of Perception? The Propounders (it’s a word) of Prophecy‽ It was different. Voices from the Third Floor would shake the Earth and hijack the airwaves on this day. In their modest phrasing, it would be called a “poetry slam.”

           Meagan Hurd took the helm at FAU’s Culture and Society building: A table was commandeered and a territory asserted as Meagan announced her Reign of Unerror. The poetic warriors were here to battle for glory: first up, David Ades. He was audibly apprehensive, but his team was behind him. With a snowballing sense of ease he endured the brunt of tension and skillfully channeled his nameless poetry; his humility was unequaled. In confidence he resigned, to leave some souls for the next poet to enlighten.

           Meagan proudly proclaimed the Era of Edwin and the room fell silent (okay, some people were talking, but it was intense). Edwin gazed into the eyes of Death and Death backed down. “Typewriter” was his first piece; it astounded its listeners, but this was not its purpose. Edwin was merely warming up the environment for his real message, “The Red Dragon.” It was appropriately named, for it roared on hind legs in a blaze of glory. Edwin opened his lungs and prepared to give the empty space new life. He was animated, as if under dominion of the Holy Ghost at a Pentecostal Church. The enthralling spirit dissipated through the poetic congregation and we sat in awe. However, time flies when you’re having fun. The magic was over before anyone could come to terms with the out-of-body experience. The crowd was left hanging on a cliff: Edwin’s plan all along.

           Next up was Lynn, the Light-force. Living up to her moniker, she widened the pupils of each individual with truth and opened their ears with her higher vibrations. This set the stage for Natalia who provided nourishment for their newfound hunger. After playing the crowd like puppets, these two finally showed mercy and let the crowd rest.

           And so grows the influence of poetry. Voices from the Third Floor appreciates your attention, divided or undivided. If you’ve never felt our presence prior to this, we hope you are inspired to join us on our journey–either with a submission of your piece, or a quiet read through our literatures. See you at the next poetry slam!

Edited by Sabrina Loftus


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