movement
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we all vibrate.
our hearts, veins, neurons—
molecules of heat.
there are profound pulses
palpating in us— we can never
truly be still.
can anything?
It amazes me how some people are able to make their bodies move,
And how they work countless hours in an empty studio to try and improve.
one sliding foot draws the lines of the melody
the toes curling in passion and fury
the muscles rippling and tensing up the calf
Can you see Oh’ Can you see What are you looking at What do you see Can you see Oh’ Can you see What are you thinking What do you see Can you see Oh’ Can you see What’s happening right now What do you see Can you see Can you see What do you see Lo
I hear a roaring in the walls at night, I believe it is the pipes
Or maybe the furnace screaming to let it catch our home on fire
I imagine the roaring to be the outcry of us, pure hatred
Once upon a time
When knights in armor shined
There waited a young princess
Who had many hobbies and interests
Yet at the very thought of marriage, she felt herself grow distant
I miss the form. The elegant beauty of the landscape. That's what I'll call it,
The landscape
It was like a landscape
Long and lean, tended to
Graceful and wind blown
Of the many things wrong,
I find this one to have a grip on me, strong
We need reform
Let us perform
A societal change
Refute the strange
All my lifeI have never owned my own suitcase.
Every family trip or vacation I borrowed from my mother or even my father, in order to stow my belongings for the road ahead.
Tonight was never meant to end in a murderous fiasco of hate and pain. I crouch by the bathroom sink in order to preserve what was left of my dignity and desperation. With each shriek of the gun I crouch lower, lower, lower until my tummy reaches
Make me busy.
Engorge the lazy, shiftless minutes of my waking hours with thoughtless labor.
Make me work, make me eat, make me work again, until the sun goes down.
Growing up I was insecure and had a lot of fears,
Coming from a city that was build on music and cars
Eventually being deprived and ruined by the men in the city.
To me its like i was the city,
I was Detroit!
Movement is bliss
By exchanging a touch between you and the floor
You have experienced a connection
A connection between you and the world
A connection between you and your desires
Corruption uses those faces
Beautiful faces
Have control in reality and illusion
Spawning death everywhere
We need those pretty faces
That inspire and hypnotize
veined ovals lean against the hose with small puddles,
guests: though one more a guest than the other
towards that end, and treading amongst the surface
she plays the Body living, breathing
spinning
You better believe you gotta misread
all the signs, they ain't faithful
All the ladies, they ain't careful
you gotta have time to get a dime
this world, this life, all the strife
Dams blowin up,
To mourn death or celebrate life.
We're always left with sullen strife.
Life, the tunnel of consciousness.
Death, the promising of mysteriousness.
When I think of the night,
I no longer feel afraid.
Not sad nor angry,
Just calm.
The night reminds me of us,
At better times.
When we would stare up into the great beyond,
He walks the streets looking for a way in or a way out
Seeking a prize that he cannot find
In the sky it cannot be seen,
So he seeks the earth beneath his feet,
Solid ground gives way beneath,
Life and death had a meeting
when life was old, dying, and pleading.
Death said hello with a grin, a dark greeting.
Death looked at life and said, "welcome back you look different."
Did you know that if you stop and look,Open your eyes and take in the sight,That everything comes to light?The darkness,The loss,The despair,Loneliness.
I am the one the leaders should answer to,
I am the one that began a nation,
I am the one who fights, the one who dies,
I am the one you depend on.
I am the people!
In a mad rush of confusion they hide away
In a simulation of warmth and safety they hide away
The thoughts inside me weep with frustration and hide away
because there is no way to sort them out today.
Be impatient.
Feel like now is the time to change shit,
Not rearrange it
Or reframe it.
Take it all down and make another,
One for your sister,
One for your brother.
numbness is what I feel most
when I am alone.
tears rarely streak
across the flecked cream of my shell in solitude
all the while
I'll hold you through the night.
For hours, in everyday, in every week.
Til It gets cold, alright.
No words would be right
Just hands to back, to get you geeked
I'll hold you through the night.
In theory I never knew the weight of the hoodie.
Contrast in its color as it grapes over my skin.
Indeed I was mightier with the cape over my lens.
Strolling pastimes, my ears were shuttled by noise.
It’s the sound you hear in between
The space that fills nothing
Or the nothing that fills the space.
Constant trace of thought
Emotions stay unveiled.
Catapulted thoughts
drifting abound.
Innocence were their names
In a child's place they were to be
Wrong place, wrong time
Some would say to thee...
It was just another day
Another day riddled with injustice, segregation
You enter a town where there's only two colorsWhite and Black; who do not even love each otherWhite folks side and Black folks sideYes, that's what they call itWhen one thought the segregation had diedIt took a few to restart itYou enter a town wi
Land of the freeLand of the apatheticLand of the dreamersLand of the broken
Home of the braveHome of the hopefulHome of the better tomorrowHome of the bitter
Most of us say we need it,
but do we truly believe it?
We are in constant competition to win the prize:
job positions,
checks written;
Don't look surprised.
Listening to the stories of others
Like pages turning, examples of being told no
That you can’t do it. You’re silly. Or crazy.
Dream smaller. Safer
What about that little girl
Who sits in her college dorm
There's something lurking in our schools,
That's far scarier than ghosts or gouls.
It's sitting there stalking you,
Waiting for the teacher's cue.
One little hour is all it would take
I like to listen to music.
The kind that blares and shakes the lights while you reach for the ceiling like it's the stars.
The hands that wrote that letter
Sitting in that cell from Birmingham jail
The hands that reached out and pushed against the ceiling of hate
As it began to rise and slowly started to fall
I take
another short breath,
preparing for my death
sentence.
My fingers grasp the door,
anxious, cold,
and black.
Through the
glass window I see
eyes that match
What a shame, how we all were treated before,
False accusations, people judged the color of skin.
Our potential, needs, and feelings were forgotten, ignored,
Our worn and torn shoes, no one has thought to step in.
We were once a people.
We taught together.
We fought together,
For freedom.
Our people won.
Black teachers, doctors, politicians.
The sky was the limit.
We were family.
Daddy was always there.
Movements,
they start off with people.
Racism. Sexism. Prejudism.
We live with 'em,
Sit next to them on the bus.
Glared at.
Snared at,
listen to them while they throw hate at,
us.
I come from
Sobbing sirens & broken traffic lights.
Hangings in the daylight,
Hooded figures breaking Bones,
Bodies,
Blacks.
“I have a dream,” he says.
Dreams of justice, of children—both black and white—hand in hand, playing,
dreams of freedom
ringing through valleys and from mountaintops.
Freedom.
Where will he start?
Early in May our ride had begun,
on May 4th,1961.
The buses left Washington D.C. ,
and It wasn't what America wanted to see
They call to me
yelling shouting jeering
And this—
not my name
never never
My Name—
is all
everything
I have known.
Eyes, pale eyes—
follow glance slide past
me.
The darkness closes in.
The bag is tight around my face.
Breathing is difficult.
Fear is choking.
The light floods in
"We're free," they say.
Votes, buses, bathrooms, parks;
We can all share.
I am a product of the Earth, much like you.
My people blossom in the motherland, soaking in the bright sun.
Our vines weave around the rough terrain, entangling in each other
We grow in these dense fields.
How could individuals that look SO different coincide with one another?
They said the brown animal could never be called a brother.
On August 28, 1968, two sides making up a quarter million marched as one number.
"And Justice for all"
We say it everyday.
They say it too
They must,
They do.
But do they think of us
of me, of you?
No I dare say they do not.
They only think of conserving
I do not wear the same skin as youbut our struggles, they are similar.You see, while you are outcastfor the way you look, the color of yourouter shell; I am turned away for whom I love.
