Take It From Me

A song for justice.

I want a world

Where I can be what I’m not,

Free from these cages and chains,

Where justice is rot in my stride

With my boot to your back as I walk away.

 

But I need a world where you’ll be free too

So I’m sitting right here til my grave

I may be a slave but I won’t be alone

And together, we might be okay..

 

But it’s not okay is it?

No, not even close

When the only way out is your backside

Freedom just can’t be just..

 

Do you believe in liberty,

And justice, for all?

I don’t know about you all, but I do

I need it so much..

 

So take it from me,

I’ll give it up for you,

Give me your tired your poor and your meek,

Because that’s me too,

Though not as much as you

Oh please let me help you escape.

Auntie Tom – Spoken Word

The Uncle buried beneath the tree.

I’m trying something new and have made recordings of my poem “Auntie Tom” and set them to music. Below you’ll find links to both the SoundCloud and YouTube versions. I hope you enjoy!!

There’s a place that exists

Between myself

And my self,

Where lies;

Beneath the surface

Undermine me–

They spread like wildfire,

Burning us, like dead tree stumps.

“Auntie’s a man! Don’t you see his XY chromosomes?

A man named Tom and that is all– that is all!”

“She’s a woman! DNA doesn’t matter, SHE

is not like any male I recall.

…And her name’s Nell,

A female;

S H E

never was ‘Tom’.”

“Stop it!” Nell cried,

Struggling;

Grappling;

With him again:

“My name was Tom,

it hurts to say..

There’s baggage with it,

and hell to pay..

You can’t know what it’s like,

Living on edges so grey,

To carry the burdens of Uncle Thomas,

Auntie Nell never having her say!

What’s a scorned woman to do

With such burdensome men?

But kill them over

and over again?

He might rest in peace,

If you’d just let me live,

But instead here’s Uncle Thomas again,

Cursed by you to live among men. “

“THAT’S TRANSPHOBIC!” one activist cried,

“THAT’S MISOGYNISTIC!” another replied.

Auntie Tom walked onward with a sigh,

Back into the place between herself and her self;

Tripping, over

Misunderstandings;

Like brambles in time,

Cutting through, and through and through,

Uncle Tom died:

Then revived;

Revived;

And revived to be shed,

By Auntie Nell with her ever-waiting edge.

“Stay out of my spaces!” a woman cried through her lips

“Keep out of mine too, faggot,” boasted a man with his fists,

Twisting Nell into Tom

And Tom into Nell..

Contriving her soul

Into liquid-like hell;

Wringing it out, pouring

Into the void of themselves.

Cursed, they now carry on

With the truth of their lies;

Knowing the hells of Auntie Nell

And the heavens Tom will never find,

As a man who wants to, but just can’t die.

The Gatekeepers

They think they know you.

Monoliths await to pass judgment,

Statues with cemented views carved

Guard the way to the precipice,

Seated on pillars, foundations planted in sand.

There’s only one way through here

Know thyself, as they know you

As they know women, as they know men

As they know gay, as they know music

As they know art, as they know vegan

As they know straight, as they know lesbian

As they know Christian, as they know transition

As they know not themselves, only us in the end

For they save all their judgement for everyone

But them, and their own unpassable tests.

Failure is the only option for a gate with no keys

So long live the judges, and into the fire with me

I’m not a monolith, never will be, cement me

All you like– it makes no difference to me

I broke the molds behind the gates ages ago

And the gatekeepers are guarding nothing

But pride in what they think they know

Words

Words, words, words.

Like knitting in the round

For eternity spinning circles

That orbit us like stars

In a universe we think

Revolves around us.

But what do they mean really?

These intangibly weaved webs

Give meaning to meaninglessness,

Beg us to forgive and forget,

Lies we’ve told and been told

Again and again become truths

..But only in our heads..

Words, words, words,

Grotesque procession drivers,

Making you think you think

You’ve got it all figured out,

How to know what it’s like to exist,

To describe and capture the key

That unlocks the universes within

And without hesitation, lift us up

To your sugar-plum salvation

Filled with words, words, words

Spun in forty-two spinning wheels

Up in the attic, above reality

But the truth is in math and knowing

Everything is improbable, everything

Is incalculably trumped by infinity

In small spaces like hearts,

With no room for words.

Hurdles

Up, and over.

I’m constantly comparing

Myself to you, complicated

By complexities, you and I

Entwined, keeping me here

Locked in your obstacles.

Overcoming nothing, overcome

By everything, we rest together

In the shade of an unclimbed tree

Filled with fruits, out of reach

But dying to be picked, to be

Wanted, like the boy picked last

By the bully you were back then

Lacking confidence, you rip it

From me like you rip it from others

So I tear myself from your brambles

Leaving behind the pieces you

Couldn’t let go, and I’m climbing

Your damned tree, and claiming

Your damned fruit, living my life

With you left in the shade

Of the grove that overgrows you

From all the seeds I left behind

With a little confidence.. but

There’s no end, I’m trapped here

There’s no end to this forest,

There’s no end to me and you

And you and me, there’s only me

Because I’m the only one here

And that’s always been the truth

This is my space, and I let you grow

Whatever you wanted here, but

I wish I hadn’t, I wish I’d learned

How to run along the tops of these

Canopies, and get the hell out of here

The world down there is brambles

But at least I’ll keep out of reach,

Up here in my wooded throne

I can live with these trees, hell

I can even become one, I’m free,

I’m in control of these branches

I can think on my own, I don’t need

You, I need you overcome, buried

In my roots where you belong.

A Siren’s Voice

Shall I tell you the secret
and if I do, will you get me
out of this bird suit?

-Margaret Atwood

She lives in Texas,

..but her mind..

Is..

Everywhere–

..She is connected..

Present and omniscient,

In thousands of places

At once, known

But unknown

Unseen

No one

Anonymous

In a sea of personality

Fragmented

By a fragmented world

Held together

In digital waves

Where voiceless sirens

Drown

Celebrating Black Poets & Black History Month

That is my dream!

To fling my arms wide
In the face of the sun,
Dance! Whirl! Whirl!

This post is going to be a bit different for my blog. On Twitter this month, I’ve been writing a thread celebrating black poets for Black History Month, honoring a different poem/poet each day of the month.

I’m going to transpose the thread here and publish it to my blog. I hope you enjoy! If anyone would care to, I’d greatly appreciate it if you’d also like and retweet anything you enjoy from the thread. Thank you!