2007 Poems

I was rolling through a file of some of the poems I wrote last winter, just to put different words in mouth and I came across some cool stuff including a poem for Carl Rux. I saw him perform "The No Black Man Show" last year and he was phenomenal. He combined music and spoken word and what I thought was especially cool was that he deliberately used the page. In slam, the best slammers I have seen so far have one thing in common, they memorize and recite from memory....so I have been shoving my poetry back in my head, which seems counter intuitive as I am constantly working to pull it out. I realize more and more that I am much more writer than performer, which is not to say I don't enjoy a little acting. Theatrics can be fun, but when it comes down to it, I am about all about the page and it was really cool to see this amazing spoken word artist and his ensemble do the page as well. Here is an excerpt from the poem I wrote after watching him...it's still kind of unfinished and another two poems I rediscovered. It's funny to feel how different my voice is in my current stuff from my previous work.

To The No Black Man

your story and my story intertwined
my muse
you are to me
Sixo’s 30 mile woman
but instead of putting the
pieces of me together
you help me to do it myself
when I hear
your words
my words return to me
tumble to the page
the complete thoughts
trapped in the brokeness
of my fragmented mind
congeal
the devisiveness of individuality
born of a
black woman
living is the world born of a black woman
as the only daughter
born to a
black woman
as the only legacy of
a black woman
it is always
the WHITE (black) man show

Letters to God

In the stillness
i know your name
things forgotten
time left behind
incense and fresh polished pews
rough hewn stone floors
the quiet
of a garden courtyard
ripe with spoiled flowers
over perfumed petal
white and pink silk
adrift in your breeze
I celebrated you gladly
lifted voice and
lips to chalice
drank you…
In the stillness
i still know your names
know the part of me
that can’t
won’t let you go

A Night With Medusa

Pompei at dusk
in the cool of
gilded shadows
dark hues
of nights
drums light the air
On the road,
unspoiled, still unsoiled
by light or time
or things unsaid
before our journey
begins
you take my hand
not knowing that I won’t be led
you take my heart
not knowing that nothing is ever free
you mistake stillness
for submission
and when you turn
to see me
the curve of me
the curl of my lips
the span of my hips
the snakes of my hair
the dark of my stare
look carefully
and you can see
the ruins of your wasted heart
a jeweled map
into the deeper soul
of someone as yet unconquered
If you listened closely
you will hear
the pounding in me
drums like a call to prayer
you will submit to me
wade into my fire
surrender to this desire
So deep
I’ll let you
seep into me
through the fault lines of
my earthen heart
then
I’ll shake you apart
Shatter you
piece
by
piece
everything you every thought you might be
constructs of identity
no longer holding meaning
when you’ve come undone
when the end has come
in my flame is your peace
so surrender
surrender
Surrender
render your flesh unto me
ease into this fire
surrender to this desire
knowing I will consume you
monsoon you
my black and blue currents
swirl through you
Strip you to bone, ash
remnants of anything
you ever thought you had