In November 2025, students at Park View High School were presented with an amazing opportunity: working with renowned poet, Regie Cabico, also known as the Lady Gaga of spoken word. Cabico is most known for his slam poetry and even became the first Asian American to win the Nuyorican Poets Cafe Grand Slam in 1993.
Despite his success, pursuing poetry wasn’t always Cabico’s plan.
“I wrote poetry late in life,” said Cabico, “part of me wanted to be a priest or spiritual leader.”
Cabico attended New York University and majored in theater. But once he graduated, he noticed that there were no roles for Filipino actors.
“I got discouraged, but the proliferation of “multicultural” literature was growing,” said Cabico.
Seeing this, Cabico started exploring anthologies and learned what poetry could be from poets like Ntozake Shange.
“Shange’s poetry showed me how rage and breakups could be real forces in poetry, and it inspired me to use my own rage against stereotyping,” said Cabico.
When Cabico started experimenting with poetry, he realized the artistic freedom he would’ve missed out on had he pursued a career in acting.
“Poetry is a way for me to perform on stage on my own terms rather than being cast in a role that is stereotypical or offensive in plays and television.”
Cabico has displayed his life and emotions through his poems like Check One (found below the article), Mango Poem, and A Queerification. By sharing his work, Cabico has been able to perform with famous people and groups like Stanley Tucci, The Smashing Pumpkins, The Beastie Boys, and more.
Realizing the impact poetry had on his life, Cabico wanted to spread the joy of poetry with others by working with elementary schools and middle schools. Recently, he has been hosting workshops at the Universalist Unitarian Congregation of Sterling and decided that he wanted to work throughout the community.
“It made sense to work at [Park View] to partner with the community. Megan O’Meara, a talented musician, writer, and overall creative, is also an active member of the church and English teacher at Park View, so it was a great fit to work with the students who are so talented,” said Cabico.
At Park View, Cabico provided an “oasis”, also known as poetry workshops, throughout the 2025-2026 school year, where students and staff of all English levels could engage in deeper thoughts and express them through poetry. A communal environment grew between them.
“It felt very open and it didn’t feel judgemental at all,” said Kiera Payne, a senior at Park View who was a regular participant of the workshops.
Participants of the workshop would write poetry and confidently showcase their talents with their peers.
“I was really floored by the depth of students’ writing,” said Megan O’Meara, an English teacher at Park View.
Cabico hopes that these workshops impacted students as strongly as poetry has impacted him.
“Poetry is a way to report on the world and archive what is happening, and for me to connect to the world,” said Cabico. “Writing poetry is a way I exist, and this is my gospel truth.”
***
Check One
The Government asks me to “check one” if I want money.
I say, How can you ask me to be one race?
I stand proudly before you a fierce Filipino
who knows how to belt hard-gospel songs
played to African drums at a Catholic mass-
and loving the music to suffering beats,
and lashes from men’s eyes on the Capitol streets-
South-East DC, my mother nursed patients
from seven to nine,
patients gray from the railroad
riding past civil rights
I walked their tracks when I entertained
them at the chapel and made their canes pillars
of percussion to my heavy gospel-
my comedy out-loud, laughing about, our shared,
stolen experiences of the South.
Would it surprise you if I told you my blood
was delivered from North off Portuguese vessels
who gave me spiritual stones and the turn in my eyes-
my father’s name when they conquered the Pacific Isles.
My hair is black and thick as “negrito,” growing abundant
as “sampaguita”-flowers defying civilization
like pilipino pygmies that dance in the mountain.
I could give you an epic about my ways of life or my look
and you want me to fill it in “one square box.”
From what integer or shape do you count existing identities,
grant loans for the mind, or crayola white census sheets-
There’s no “one kind” to fill for anyone.
You tell me who I am, what gets the most money
and I’ll sing that song like a one-man caravan.
I know arias from Naples, Tunis, and Accra-
lullabyes from welfare, food-stamps, and nature
and you want me to sing one song?
I have danced jigs with Jim Crow and shuffled my hips
to a sonic guitar of Clapton and Hendrix,
waltzed with dead lovers, skipped to bamboo sticks,
belleted kabuki and mimed cathacali
arrivedercied-a-rhumba and tapped Tin Pan Alley-
and you want me to dance the Bhagavad Gita
on a box to small for a thumbelina-thin diva?
I’ll check “other”
