Josh Williams’ third-grade teacher probably didn’t expect her lesson on haikus to change anyone’s life. But if she came to hear her former student slamming poetry in Chicago today, an up-and-coming professional, he would tell her otherwise. Williams, a Weinberg sophomore, performs his political slam poetry at up to 10 Chicago open mics every week, honing his style. Audiences have taken notice, and Williams’ words have them talking. “Where a lot of poets just speak, Josh is serious and energetic,” says Creative Scott, the owner of Creative Salon, which holds an open mic where Williams has performed. “I like his concepts, his delivery and the drama. He has a message.”Williams grew up in Englewood on Chicago’s Southeast Side, a neighborhood where the median income is less than $20,000 a year, and where he returns regularly from school. His poems explore the violence that plagues inner city life while touching on any number of political controversies. In “Moment of Silence,” he wrestles with the way Americans rose up after September 11, even as they continued to ignore the everyday violence at home. “How do I reap remorse from 9/11 / when fumes from young black bodies / hiding in garbage cans / behind playgrounds whistle with / summer breeze even on their best days,” he writes. The piece morphs into a eulogy for victims of violence across the world, from the passengers of United Flight 93, to Iraqis killed in war to his uncle who was gunned down on the South Side. “I don’t see why the killing that goes on in the inner city doesn’t receive that kind of attention,” he says, referring back to the terror attacks. His friends and family describe an artist with a distinct style and intense commitment to his craft. “When you slam, you’re speaking truth to whoever is in power. You’re slamming your poetry to an issue,” says Joseph Williams, his twin brother and a North Park University theology student. “(Josh’s poetry) is new – sort of like hip-hop on one note, but on another note, he’s more of an inspirational poet.”His influences, poets like Emily Dickinson and Langston Hughes, might seem atypical for a spoken word artist. But he has studied their mechanics in order to try and adapt them to his own style. “(At this point) I don’t like words on the page. Sometimes I have to digress away from these basics of writing poetry to allow the crowd to focus on the spoken word.”But while he dedicates much of himself and his time to performance, Williams says he sees his future in business. Although he is only a sophomore, he has completed internships at the Federal Reserve Bank of Chicago and the Chicago Board of Options. He and Communication sophomore Zach Johnson are executive members of The Hustle Group, an entertainment company founded in 2006 that represents college-market artists in danger of getting lost in the mainstream. The Hustle Group’s mission lines up with Williams’ politics, challenging the record industry to empower artists. “Josh is so driven, and you can see it in his art,” Johnson says. “It’s in his work, everything he does.”Still, his passion is in poetry. Williams has participated in the Young Chicago Authors’ Louder Than a Bomb (LATB) slam competition since high school, advancing through the rounds every year. He will slam in this year’s competition, which begins Feb. 28, with a team of three other performers. Robbie Telfer, Young Chicago Authors performances manager, has traveled with Williams to competitions and has heard his performances at YCA Tuesday open mic nights. “He strives to perform in a way, with energy and strength, but doesn’t rely on being loud and fast to get that energy,” Telfer says.LATB, held annually since 1995, allows youth to “gather in large groups in a peaceful way, to prove that large groups of kids can do something positive,” like slamming poetry. The competition hosts poets ages 19 and under, with older poets acting as mentors for young talent. “Poets who have been around the space move through various stages,” Tefler says. “I could definitely see Josh doing a lot, especially the way he’s studying. If he continues to pursue the non-profit lifestyle, he has a lot of skills.”As Williams prepares for his last LTAB, he reflects on the competitive environment. “It’s stressful,” he says. “All these people like to write, like poetry, but the counterpart to that is that they are all focused on competition. They’re not focused on that aesthetic of having that much poetry in one room.”Getting ready for the slam competition takes a lot of work. Teams write together via e-mail and then spend a few nights rehearsing and blocking their performance pieces. Williams says it has taken him up to a year to write a piece, sending drafts back and forth between his various mentors. Already he is developing a repertoire for future competitive slams. “My goal is to get to that level of national recognition,” Williams says. “It’s a hustle, to stay on top. The easiest way to do it is through slam, booking those gigs where the focus is on the causes.”The amount of time Williams dedicates to poetry sounds unimaginable, especially when Northwestern students consider themselves swamped by midterms, without performing 10 times per week. Williams’ academic adviser Mark Witte, professor of economics, says he encourages students to “take their eyes off the horizon long enough to notice the trees,” considering academics while making decisions about extracurricular time commitments. But he knows there’s no stopping Williams. “He’s always on the edge of performing,” Witte says. “There’s always something else that’s becoming a part of the way he articulates.”