Kait Rokowski

Lady poet who ranked third in the world after both the 2011 Individual World Poetry slam & the 2012 Women of the Wolrd Poetry Slam.



Kait Rokowski: How to Cure a Feminist

I don’t like my hair or my dress in this video BUT SELF LOVE IS BIGGER THAN VANITY. Just. like, if you don’t know, now you know. 

I’m reblogging this again just to tell you a story about the dress. This dress was my roommates at the time, & she was out of town. I borrowed the dress without asking & went to the show, When I got there, I realized we were being recorded, so I called her the next day & asked if I could borrow her dress for the video shoot that was happening that night. Luckily, she said yes. 



After I left him
My body was the pill bottle he swallowed to make a point 
My body was the suitcase I carried and nothing more
My body was the fuck after the get me the fuck out

My body was a trap door
My body was a set of keys that forgot what they locked
My body was a history book of a colonized country

My body was the post apocalypse
My body was the first human
My body was the last dodo

My body was a closet, but not my closet
My body was bed frame, but the not the bed
My body was a plate half eaten, but not enjoyed

My body was waiting for rain
or an overgrown garden
or barren

My body was a mistake, his
My body was a relic, his
My body, his

  • YOUNG WIDE EYED ARTIST: The world is my oyster! What will I be when I grow up?
  • THE UNIVERSE: Disappointed.


I twist like a sunflower
at the sound of your voice
But you leave the receiver
static most days
You have me growing into a dial tone

All it would take is your voice
Saying my name
& I would behead myself
to be carried around on your lapel

I… I was working there.

I… I was working there.

Someday I will get rid of my favorite shirt. The thought of that really bums me out.


I found myself at the edge of the earth
Which is flat, after all
You may not believe me at first
But this is a poem, so that’s irrelevant

We all believed in the shape
Because we are all dying to be lied to
Trust me, every time you get hungry
It is your body asking to be misled

I’m sitting at the edge of the earth
& I’m looking at you
Across the milky way
Which is where you live in this poem

& I can see you & you’re dancing
Dancing with a girl who must be your type
Because she has my eyes
& she fits under your arms
Like a full moon

So, I am sitting on the edge of the earth
Which is flat
Looking at you
In the milky way
Dancing with her
A full moon
& I’m so very hungry

Dear cyber bullies,

What you are doing is not OK. Targeting people because you don’t like their beliefs or the way they look is so childish. Telling someone to go kill themselves anonymously on the internet is the most cowardly thing I have ever heard of. I have zero tolerance for this kind of behavior. It is reckless, dangerous, & it reserves you a special little place in hell. Seriously, Satan is writing a seating plan & you are front & fucking center, sweetheart. Stop hurting other people to make yourself feel better. You are not God. You are hardly a competent human. How you have managed to figure out a keyboard is beyond me.