-Here’s a poem from my most recent performance, based on a previous experience. Need a place to keep it since I can’t get myself to write these things on paper.
His mouth resembled an accordion
Teeth like music keys
A smile that projected light like
Moonshine
And had eyes lit with brown sugar glaze to match
We, were his marionette dolls
Always having strings of resisted laughter
Pulled out of our mouths
He claimed the classroom
Always hypnotizing us with that smile
Forcing us to pay attention
All he wanted was attention
In institution
Where stone hard adults
Couldn’t comprehend his humor
They labeled him class clown
As if to mock his financial situation
Or denote his winning attitude
But for me,
he was best friend
Angel-like
His wings always lifting
Heavy hearts
From the not-so tough soils
We try to bury our emotions in
But not him
The brown of his skin was
Made of baked clay
And his hands
They told another story
Nails torn at the seams
As if he tried to eat away his anxieties
So he’d covered them
And walked
Chin high &
Fists of steal
He wore name brand for armor
Spoke kitchen knives
That could cut through graphite
And I’d always cheer him on
He would dance whenever time permit
And I’d always cheer him on
Cause his resilience
To me at least was beautiful
The amount of agency he had
Was admirable
But there were certain factors way beyond his control
Like the institutionalized box that would await him at 14
It was the week of our 8th grade graduation
When my best friend was stolen from me
They tried to clip his wings
And label him criminal
But he was no fallen angel
Only a trapped ghost in a stigmatized caste of
Young, poor, black, male
Damn those thieves dressed in blue
They were quick to speak of Miranda rights
But what about his human rights?
To a safe neighborhood
To a proper education
To health
To retain his innocence
To give the world his smile
Best friend
Charged with armed robbery
But I knew you better than that
You were far from Satan
But your fighting the same demons
Because you
Were never allowed to plead your lifelong case of stolen hope and dreams
And in the words of Mark Twain:
“Who prays for Satan? Who in eighteen centuries has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most.”
I’ll refrain from pointing out all the flaws of our justice lacking system today
You just remember
That there is no amount of steel bars
That can contain my brother’s smile
No barb wire fence
Can restrain something meant to soar
Something so majestic
Despite his torn
I knew him
I knew that moon shine angel
With eyes of brown sugar glaze
And he can fly
He is still flying
“The speaker is not the author.”
The poem is not the poet.
A poem is a physical form focused on a specific heighten emotion or event that took place. No. I am not an angry person. No. I am not always depressed. No. I am not heart broken.
At least, not at the moment.
I will be
your breath—
marked and feral
against the heated
rain.and I will let you
paint me bare on
fresh snow
and adorn me a
new soul
without the peril
of flesh and bone.
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“
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I always endowed madness with a sacred, poetic value, a mystical value. It seemed to me to be a denial of ordinary life, an effort to transcend it, expand, to go far before the limitations of the human condition.
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”
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So my poem was published, forgot all about it but here it is! Spring break memories in Alabama providing relief for hurricane victims.
[Tuesday, March 12th, 2013 – Frieda ‘16]
Hours on end,
To reach an anticipated nowhere
Where city stress can’t touch
Warmth of sun
Politeness of stars
Did I tell you about the time Dixie stole my heart?
It was the weekend of March 8th
Post a week of putting ink to paper
Trying to make mentions of 89 & above
It was a long weekend…
Until my eyes became fixed
On beautiful sunset
Blue, Pink, and Orange
Like University of Tennessee
Pit stops at gas stations
Like in the movies
Or when dirt road met cow
Met horse
Or trespassing college students
Met baking dogs
I mean loving puppies
Hush puppies
Met belly…
Alabama knew the detour to my heart
Was through my stomach
And so she catered to me
Rubbed my back like morning hike
And foot rubbed laughter
She reminded me of playground
And ball-toss
Rock climbing
Childhood shenanigans
She gave gifts like people
Except I lost the receipt for some!
She reminded me that there is so much more in this world
To be seen, to know
And while I can’t reach it at once
She’s willing to host me
For the time being
I only hope that our love isn’t temporary
Cause ‘Bama keeps running circles through my mind, literally!
How many U-turns does a college student need to make to realize that
It’s never been about the destination,
But the journey
And surely my dearest,
Alabama
You were worth the trip.
