My mother taught me how to make a living.
My father showed me how to create a life to live.
She was deemed responsible.
He was deemed selfish.
… I want to be selfishly responsible from here on out.
“How dare I resent the man who taught me how to pray when I know people who never had a father in the first place, so thank you.”
“My papa was never a rolling stone / my papa’s a firm rock that stayed in our home.”
“I was raised on stories of return and that hope is still alive in my father’s eyes.”
“I had fears of picking up my son, I thought my hands were too rough and I would scratch him but my fears had to go.”
“He was happy to be no quite happy, happy enough for his daughters so that they could have a life with more opportunities than his had full bellies.”
“Don’t just lend them your name / give them the gristle at the end of your bone!
reveal your scars and your tears / hide your prayers inside their lunch” – Conney Williams
Enjoy this poetry video post featuring the words from a Los Angeles literary legend,
From the poetry cd, “unsettled water”.
If you are in the Los Angeles area, support Conney at his release party, May 8th 6:30 pm at Vibrations, 2435 Manchester Blvd in Inglewood!
Please visit www.conneywilliams.com
If you could talk to one person from the past/present for one hour, who would it be?
I would take just one hour with you, Dad.
and memorize your knuckles
and count the pace between your jokes
look at the stance of your earlobes
allow the electricity to race through my veins as we touch hands
and allow my eyes to connect your pores that capture your
favorite after shave
attach the scent of your breath
have you explain.
ask you the really tough questions
in this softly short period of time
tell you why I chose this place. next to this tree. I love silver dollar trees.
answer more. give me more detail. this is when you’ll see yourself. and know I am so much of your explosive hustle.
and then I’d let you see me cry for the first time ever. for two straight minutes. until your eyes that are mine meet again.
nikki skies for NATIONAL POETRY MONTH
I don’t know about you but I welcome them. I am not afraid.
I believe they come to give. / not take.
He left in 2010 and tried his best to prepare me. I wanted my optimism to be greater than his thoughts. And this wouldn’t be the first time the will of my optimism won over his years of experience. Now looking back… I wonder if he handed me those victories? Declaring my optimism for me solely.
So I walk into a room and there he is. My father. The room is full of other people but when I walk in, it’s as if he has been waiting for me. He does that stare.
/ the one where he makes me blink before him.
/ the one that makes everyone else follow his gaze to me.
/ the one that embarrasses me.
/ the one that validates me. yea, the stare that matters.
He announces to himself, but aloud, that I have arrived.
“There she is!”
I am excited to see him. I remember a gift exchange (that I wasn’t prepared for), some sort of event that moved everyone outside and some buses. Then morning came.
And he was gone / again.
I’ve been wanting to see him. I’ve been wanting to ask him about my play and my new book. I didn’t get a chance. Time went so fast and so much was going on.
I got his smile and his stare and him announcing me to everyone in the room. I believe when they come in dreams, they come to give. / and I did receive.
I had to read various websites to ensure I was reading this clearly… Colorado, for the third time, wants to pass Amendment 67 that would ban all abortions, inclusive of rape and incest victims, and when a woman’s health is in danger. I am not sure what they didn’t understand about it not being passed the first and second time… maybe it’s all that marijuana smoking???
The government has had this fixation on controlling a woman’s body for centuries upon centuries.
Continue reading Dear Colorado: Marijuana vs Motherhood?