Paul Jones

POET PAUL JONES doesn’t waste time. Last year he competed in over 50 poetry slams across Arizona. He says that performing allows him to be his genuine self: “I spent much of my life feeling like there was a discrepancy between the real me and who I outwardly expressed to the world. My writing always felt like the true me.”

Remember the good ol’ days, when I carried my words uphill both ways
to find a piece of paper and a pen before I lost them?

Many of Paul’s poems focus on different aspects of connection. “I often write about the desire for connection in the modern age, whether it be with other humans, nature or oneself.” He also enjoys challenging his audience with “calls to action” to think or behave differently, sometimes using humor to deal with difficult subjects. “I don’t want to ever sound like a broken record. I want to keep people guessing at what I will write about next. And I like finding off-the-wall ways to talk about common experiences.”

I learned cursive for this.
I bought nice pens for this.
I recorded my words on cassette tapes — it was cheaper
than a long distance landline call in 1995.

Paul had been writing since high school in rural New York. He landed in Arizona about 20 years ago “with a backpack and list of myspace friends.” With a few breaks, he’s been journaling, blogging, performing and reading at open mics ever since. “I am grateful that there are so many venues to celebrate spoken word in Arizona right now. Providing opportunities for diverse people to express themselves freely in a safe space is important.” 

I dumped pocketfuls of change into payphones
just to leave rambling voicemails to crushes.
I carried typewriters around in cars,
writing love letters on old paper bags.

He finds inspiration in many of his contemporary spoken-word poets.  “Sometimes you hear an amazing line from a poem and it awakens a forgotten memory. Or you remember the way it made you feel, and you write something else that sparks a similar feeling.”

I copied my favorite parts of old journals into new journals.
I rewrote all my first flip phone text messages over and over,
Because what if this might be the last text I ever sent? 

Slam poetry has a unique attraction for Paul.  “I like the opportunity to show three-minute commercials of who you are to strangers. It’s a rare chance to be truly authentic in a first impression, because the audience goes in expecting a certain vulnerability. It also feels kinda like school and having to go read your homework in front of your peers, but sometimes you get paid.”

I'm tired of hanging out with people these days who can’t pry their eyes
from their screens. When did words stop being cool?

Occasionally Paul gets to feature at poetry venues, which opens up interesting possibilities. “Features are fun because they’re not limited by slam rules. Example: I have a poem about fire-making, and I made a fire on the stage with a hand drill.  While I was performing a memorial for a friend, I invited audience members to write messages to those they’ve lost on cedar to add to to the fire. Years ago, I came out to “Eye of the Tiger” and did pushups on stage before reading a poem about living vicariously through movies, and invited the audience to throw ramen noodles at me if they didn’t like what I was saying.”

If another person texts me HBD on my birthday,
I’m going to scratch WTF into their car.
It’s like for every birthday, I’m worth less letters, less time.

On his poem “Show Me Your Words,” Paul says, “I wanted to write about my history of writing and how the changes brought about by digital culture forced me to adapt to find connection. The poem is a dare to the reader to prove that anything about their life still matters enough that they will take the time to actually tell the long version of it to someone.”

Prove to me that words still have meaning to you!
Write what keeps you up at night in sidewalk chalk outside my work.
Leave me voicemail memories from your childhood,
send me postcards with your favorite recipes, and treasure maps
to the place you want to have a picnic. 

“Capitalism keeps us so obsessed with saving time, upgrading our tech, that it feels like if the power goes out or we lose service, we would forget how to communicate. It’s a desperate plea to keep the dying art of letter-writing alive, and to not forget that time is the most precious gift we all have. We shouldn’t have to wait until people’s funerals to tell them what they mean to us, to talk about things that matter.”

Bring me paragraphs of prose on the back of polaroids
of the unfiltered parts of you not posted on instagram
Write me the opposite of a suicide note.
A love letter, to love letters.
Show me your words. And I’ll show you mine.

Ultimately, Paul is determined to continue connecting with others through his work and performances. “Above all, I hope my writing can remind people that they’re still alive, that they’re not alone, and that their stories matter. Vulnerability is worth the risk. So, just show me your words. I’m definitely going to show you mine.”

To hear the complete poem “Show Me Your Words”: 

https://youtu.be/O-KCy0VHLTc?si=tT-xrkADLXY6-1Qu

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