Category Archives: spokenword poetry

a Poem

Lyrics make it a song
Bars make it a rap
too long and too loud make it a theatrical monologue

unfortunately open mics don’t teach the difference

Poets make words jump from pages to dance
with whomever / even when they are not there

Poets can make water flow from their feet
for everyone to drink

Poetry makes people responsible
turns dreams prophetic

so discipline your ego and teach.
journalandpen

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fear wrestling

The merlot on my tongue
won’t allow me to speak.

I stain my pillow with attached prayers of something
better
betwixt the Ghana of my mane.

Afraid,
I walk with a cane looped to my belt to beat a fall
design distance from cerebral lessons

fear wrestling.
I wear tight shoes to ensure carefully calculated steps
abandon spontaneity
and disavow chances and dances with love.

taken from the book:

PocketHoneyWindHips

Get your autographed copy here

 

lovin’

There’s something intensely intimate about cooking a meal for a man
then having him hold your hand across the table and say  / grace.

animated-couple

In between the “I love you’s”
this is how we reconnect:
I straddle and clutch on to him
for my dear life       and       he /
recharges himself inside of me with all I have to offer  /  then
me and my man          we go out and change
the
world.
from the poetry book, Pocket Honey, Wind & Hips

a Note on Time (meeting me2)

She left this morning.
conveniently smooth like tap water /
Promises taped to her right palm for her to befriend the wild with food

She just wanted to be great.
Capsize time and defend her sister and brother
Look her father in the eye with familiar
Write down her Grandmother’s genius words
Learn the earth at the expense of her Grandfather’s back

She came. / throttled tone with soprano cheeks
shy girl
social as corners
barely

Intimately speaking is how she preferred things
but stories pierced her earlobes
diamonds to shine / hoops to dangle
pages to escape poverty

Like you / she survived through chances
stand offs against never and silence
She left this morning
after a cup of coffee
but prepared these words for you.

The Poet TAKEOVER!

Join in sometime today between 10am-10pm EST.  I’ll come on and talk about my role in the series, writing poetry and even encouraging some prompts to hear from you poetic video posts. I hope you can tune in and share some of your work. Definitely tune in tonight for “Rebel” on BET, check your local listings for times.

panther

How black can a panther get?
How high is serious set?
Know melanin and let
Evolve / I then bet
Set the panther inside loose
then serious you’ve met.

panther

about the ribbons

Maybe it’s not stating a prison number instead of your name
but for certain a wrist badge with your birthdate
and a, “tell us your full name please”
becomes your identity until salaries are paid.
Until bills are made and passed
to keep the torture going.
/ lobotomies remain a threat for those who imply an uprising
of thoughts

wp-1488396352266.jpeg

It’s ok girl,
You don’t have to join the ribbons just yet / if ever.
believe what you want
It’s ok girl,
You don’t have to play pretend they’re fundraising for a cure.
go on and be sugar cane
Let them know your sweetness is going to be hard to get
go and let them know  / you know
they got the cure
It’s hiding in the overhead coverages
of their non-profits
It’s ok curly/short haired girl,
show that drug infused swollen body
snap that thick neck and roll your eyes
go on and show them your scarred up chest
your burnt cleavage and peeling skin
show that radiation racing to your clavicle
the rawness under your breast
show how you still here  / cause like millions of others,
you tricked your body into dying to stay alive.
It’s ok girl,
You know the power of now
cause twice you had thoughts of tomorrow
being ok not to come
Naw, don’t be ashamed!
no time for that when the value of every second is gold.
when you were still granted a sunrise and a desk topped with
paper and pens

It’s ok if you don’t feel like pretending today.
If you don’t feel like walking with the crowd
cause you can’t keep up yet / shoes snug around freshly grown back toe nails
go on and sit .
think about things.
the words, will come to you as they always have.

You don’t have to join the ribbons just yet / if ever.

stripped (a poem)

tired of waking up tired / after 8 hours of sleep
up all night fighting somebody / even though I live alone
in a white dress / she came to me and said my peace would
come with pain / my peace was letting go of everything that I
believed keeps me sane.
I was naked / but not stripped, like before / misunderstood &
confused with this spiraling in my spine / I gave it all away.
I snored that night / I was so tired.

womaninawhitedress

Gathered Around Fire (a prose piece for roux makers)

sankofa1

 

I was cold.  I didn’t know too much about The Fire Next Time (James Baldwin) or that it could be easily identified as the return of the spirit of the movement.

The presence of our ancestors to re-connect the seven sciences that we all represented.

I just know that of the several bonfires that appeared    /I chose the one closest to my home.  A few others had come to get warm.

We dared to stare down the center of this chemical process to identify what was causing the combustion.  And nothing was there.  Not with the naked eye at least.                                                                         It was simply a fire and I was cold.

Continue reading Gathered Around Fire (a prose piece for roux makers)