New Poem (Finally)

“But I want to run my fingers through it”


Baby
Baby
Our hair wasn’t meant for you to run you your fingers through.
The truth is we got those naps that
catch you that
stop you that
arrest you
Our hair is made to for you to put your hand
in and make you sit down and think
made to draw you in to caress made to
make you slow down and FEEL
where you at and who you with

Man, these strands?
they ‘sposed to twist you braid you
loc you back
‘fros so big they sposed
to knock you flat on ya back
and if you ain’t doing the natural
then baby I doubt the you
you seeing is you.
‘Cause our hair is like
trying to understand the Most High.
See you try to put your hand
into the knowledge of God you try
to wade in the sapphire sea, you try
to run your fingers through it you try
to understand it roots to tip but
your hand get caught on something
a question
a niggling paradox
a knot of logic and faith
that at the moment you can’t untangle
not only can’t untangle you can’t move forward
in it or around it
you’re frozen in meditation
held in contemplation you try
to feel it out with your fingers but the intricacies are beyond you
And if you’re like most negroes this is the moment you give up
pull your hand back
look at the problem
turn to God
and say, “You need to straighten that”
trading the truth the real Him and the real you
for a creamy crack slick back style
that you get to get from root to tip
a theology that you can slide through
that’s so straight and shiny you can see
your reflection in it instead of His
That’s right baby you
want us goin' to church
dyed fried and laid to the side
hidden behind a mask of potash and lye
But Baby
Baby
If you can understand
everything that man is telling you
from the word “go”, he ain’t Jesus.
Ain’t never a time that Jesus told
somebody something that they didn’t get stuck
have sit down with their hands in their hair
and feel it out follow the narrow loops and locs
left until they came to His conclusion
it took time just like it’s going to take you some
time to run your hands through my hair.

~More to Read~

I love tumblr I have found a multitude of educational resources for my writer mind everything from history articles, reading lists, book reviews, new poets and authors, etc. This reading list is about two years old but still relevant as there are many science fiction stories and novels by people of coloror women 1 I'm looking forward to adding to my personal To Read list, such as:

1. Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood
2. Dhalgren by Samuel R. Delany
3. "Arkfall" by Carolyn Ives Gilman
4. “Love Is the Plan the Plan Is Death” by James Tiptree, Jr.
5. So Long Been Dreaming: Postcolonial Science Fiction & Fantasy(anthology) edited by Nalo Hopkinson
6. Kindred by Octavia E. Butler
7. “A Habit of Waste” by Nalo Hopkinson

Neck: Rewritten 9.10.2011

A tower you call it.
But I call it the thing of me like
the twisty part of a hanger
from which my breasts
and body hang,
a favorite well-worn garment.

A stiff thing you name it
and unrelenting, and I name
it the same. I am the rock,
you are the hard place,
and the only thing standing
between us is

The bareness of it all;
the skin of you hand
on my neck, our names
on each other’s lips, but
rounder and fuller, as if
we take more time in
shaping each breath.

The curves between
my head and shoulders are
ready-made resting places
for your hands, the hidden
dips between my vertebrae
are only for thumbs, and
my clavicles make a padded
cradle for your fingertips.

Covered in shields you
say and I say thinly covered
in the sweat of the day,
a barely visible sheen.

There the kitchen of my neck
invites your lips to leave
a mark and invites your
breath to erase it.

Words, words, words...

thanatism	belief that the soul dies with the body
thanatognomonic	indicating or characteristic of death
thanatography	narrative of a death
thanatoid	apparently dead; deathly; deadly
thanatology	study of death and its customs
thanatomania	belief that one has been affected by death magic, and resulting illness
thanatophobia	fear of death
thanatopsis	view of or reflection upon death
thanatosis	gangrene; necrosis; state imitating death
thanatousia	funeral rites

__________________________________________________________________________________

theocentrism	belief that God is central fact of existence
theocracy	government by priests or by religious law
theocrasy	mixture of religions; fitting other religions into own
theodicy	defense of goodness in view of the existence of evil
theodidact	student of God; one who is taught by God
theodolite	surveying instrument for measuring angles
theody	hymn in praise of God
theogamy	marriage of gods
theogonic	accounting for the origin or presence of gods
theolepsy	seizure or possession by a god
theologaster	petty or shallow theologian
theologoumenon	theological statement as opposed to divine one
theomachy	war amongst or against the gods
theomancy	divination by means of oracles
theomania	belief that one is a god
theomastix	punisher of mortals sent by God; such a punishment
theometry	measurement or estimation of God
theomicrist	one who belittles God
theonomy	government or rule by God
theopantism	belief that God is the only reality
theopathy	emotional experience brought on by religious belief
theophagy	sacramental consumption of a god
theophany	manifestation or appearance of a god to people
theophilanthropism	love of both God and humanity
theophile	one who loves or is loved by God
theophobia	fear of God
theophorous	having the name of a god; derived from a god's name
theopneustic	divinely inspired
theopsychism	belief that the soul is of a divine nature
theorbo	double-necked lute
theosophy	immediate divine illumination or wisdom
theotechny	use of the gods as primary moving force in a poem or play

Enough

    The wall is covered with thorns, Sleeping Beauty's living thorns that resist a prince who shoves his right hand deep into them, intent on unlocking the legend-woman that is his purpose, his life's blood, his reason for being. Sometimes he doesn't know why or even if he's here, and he wanders from battle to battle wondering to himself, " How do I know I'm real? How can I be sure? Is it enough that I ask for water and my squire responds, that I strike with my sword and men fall and die? What if it's all a ruse, an elaborate fake to trick me into believing that I am? But doesn't that mean that I am?"

    He picks up his sword once more and strikes at the thorns that tear through the armor on his arms and chest. So he swings at the dragon that was once a loving god mother, pushes through the bramble, ignoring the heat of her flame. He pushes through the smoke and sulfur that burn his mouth and eyes. For now the thorns and the dragon give way and that is enough.

#1--Louis Simpson
“In the Suburbs”

There’s no way out.

You were born to waste your life.

You were born to this middleclass life

As others before you

Were born to walk in procession

To the temple, singing.

I like the brevity of this poem, thus its its sparing use of image (rather, its concentration on a single image). I really appreciate simple declarative statements

While I believe in using image in poetry (obviously) I think that this necessary element has been placed on pedestal to the exclusion of abstract concepts and dexterity with language. It’s refreshing to see a poet embrace abstraction successfully, as an image doesn’t even occur until the end of the poem in the last two lines. It’s beautiful, still. It’s poetry, still.

I guess that is why I enjoy spoken word so much. It is not afraid to actually say something in plain words, that may or may not be abstract, rather than supplying and juxtaposing image after image and hoping the reader gets it. As poets we do want people to see and feel the words we write, but we are not painters (though there are some artistic parallels). We have the use of words, so that we can plainly convey abstraction and create musical language. Why is it that we are mostly taught to avoid abstractions, rather than being taught the balance between living entirely in the mind and living entirely in the eyes? Or maybe I am misunderstanding.

Even the image provided isn’t ornate and all the information about who “you” is and the situation that brought this reflection on is left out. Suburban life/a procession towards a temple singing, all so boiled down. He could have used a metaphor for “no way out”, “wasting life”, and "middle-class life” but he didn’t. He just said it and it works... for me anyway.

New Version of Land Forbidden | The Beginning

 "Anytime people who are usually ignored decide to credit themselves with recognition, it’s a problem. If people who are often silenced demand a voice, extreme efforts are exhausted to suppress their cries. Whenever there is an emergence of unity from a socially neglected and once dismantled group, those in power scatter for an oppressive solution and attempt to revive the ever so popular “divide and conquer” method. Highlighting subtle differences in hopes to cause the newly proud people to bicker with each other, tear one another down, dismiss what connects us.

Our pride is so intimidating. Knowledge of our power is such a threat. Know that. Be aware of the strength that is held in unity. Don’t fight the urge to unite."

by Monochromaticblack

DEBORAH’S MOTHER OPAL | Year 2413, 37 years before The Crisis

“They didn’t think it would ever happen again, the 1970s. So much had been lost, there was so little cohesion especially after the drugs and then the devastation of the ‘justice’ system. Truth was no one expected for crack and heroin and meth to have the effects that they did. No one expected the devastation. Maybe if people had known before what it all really was... But there was still so much anger and so much pain.  And people living in the shadow of death were looking for an escape. And then all the leaders dying… You can’t say it wasn’t purposeful. Otherwise, it doesn’t make no sense.


"Their hypocrisy had  been exposed but for the most part, hearts hadn't changed. Yeah, they knew Black people--and others too, the Jews, the Asians… They knew that they weren't going to stand for the ill treatment anymore, but that doesn’t mean They wanted to treat anyone differently or really believed that They had done wrong. Or even if They did know it was wrong, that doesn’t mean that They cared.

So the leaders were killed, drugs spilled into the streets, and They found other ways of controlling them. The emotional destruction allowed so little togetherness that everyone thought Black people would never recover, even other Blacks. And we almost didn’t, honestly.

“If it hadn’t been for the Continental Wars… we would have lost ourselves in Their madness. And it was madness.”