inspired by nikki giovanni, saul williams, gil scott herron, sonia sanchez, ntozake shange, and many many others.
my first love: poem.
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startrhyming on poet(ry)
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startrhyming // May 23, 2008 at 2:30 pm
BIRTHDAY POEM
it’s my birthday
and i want to get so deep
into the grave
yard that the city is invisible
no skeleton skylines
or buildings of bone
but the moans of ghosts around me
reminders
on the roof of a hilltop mausoleum
i know there’s only one escape
and i’m ok with that
because the sun is shining today
on graves facing the statue of liberty
(that is a poem)
and the leaves have started to bloom
blocking out the ikea store in red hook
this cemetery is full of life
ask maegan about the birds
there’s nothing so green in all of brooklyn
i come here to avoid the hustle of a city that doesn’t know how to stop
because
i
do
(and i value that)
these are the only quiet people in all of new york
the only ones who’ve been able
to say enough is enough
because sometimes
it just is
sometimes stopping
will get you farther
startrhyming // May 23, 2008 at 2:32 pm
SNOW
fighting thru the white
head down
the storm of your life
struggling
because white means purity
and you
of all people
are not pure
but you already are white
underneath the layer between
you and your self conscious
and this chaos falling down
wants to join you
but you stand up
head still down or else
white hurts
you should know
it always gets you in the end
and somewhere around the time
you begin to notice the
monotony of individuality
you join the white
and settle into accumulation
startrhyming // May 23, 2008 at 2:33 pm
JUST TO NAME A FEW
There’s a few things that I’m really happy I know…
a can of mountain dew tastes better if you put it in a paper bag and drink it from a straw
sunny days are best for basking in the warmth of personal growth
and the ups guy comes around 5.
I’m happy i know
i can get ice cream in the park
there’s a restaurant called super pollo and one called casa china
and i can definitely change this world.
I know that my body does not contain me
or at least that it is not me
and that sometimes i should just shut up.
I’m happy knowing that the lines on my hands are getting deeper
that i’ve settled my debt with my self
and that the dryer on the bottom left only gives you 7 minutes per quarter.
I know i look just a little too long
sabotage anything that might make me a little too happy
and talk way too loud.
I’m glad i know that i don’t know when to quit
that there’s a bottle of champagne in the lounge refrigerator,
and that that’s a dangerous combination.
I’m happy i know the words to no rain
which subway exit to use
and the color of her eyes in the sun.
I know i don’t think the way other people do
i’ve already hit rock bottom
and that george bush is an idiot.
It’s a good thing i know that buddy wakefield exists
that i have trouble recognizing patterns
and that my heart could kill me.
startrhyming // May 23, 2008 at 2:34 pm
LATE NIGHT WALKING
my body feels so long when i lay down in it like
the first sip of red
bull in the morning
or the way you look
at me
when i laugh
what i don’t get is the fact
that every time i step back
things just get bigger
like perception has no place here
like i could walk all day and not make it anywhere
cause this map is not to scale
like the way a lighter fails
when you need it most
(like a human)
the kids play soccer
on basketball courts and hills
in sunset park
while i stare at the sky
because there is no horizon here
just concrete
and buildings
i haven’t made a wish in months
because the stars have gotten bored
with shining on a city that never takes notice
but i… know this
i
am paying attention
to the constant tension
that sits within these city limits
each sentence
stands on limbs
that are not it’s own
so it bears no responsibility
for disappointing the listener
cause we get down
‘round here
dancing to dieing car alarms
the rhythm of police sirens
and thoughts jumping from ear to ear
so i can’t hear you when you speak reality
startrhyming // May 23, 2008 at 2:36 pm
THE STORY I STICK TO
the truth
of the matter is
i fight back and i fight back and i fight back
and so on
until im so damn backed up
from fighting
that my back isnt against the wall
im looking at it
and its hard to place blame
when im staring at a wall
at the end of a dark alley
of my own creation
because one day
i woke up feeling cloudy
i couldnt see orange or
touch black
the storm of my life
overdose
on time
and memory
thinking only
outshine the bottle
but that light
which seems so bright
pales in comparison
to the end of the tunnel
and yet the future doesnt look so good
for someone of my situation
a woman
with a college education
inspired by imagination and
funded by corporations
ill have to work four months and fifteen days
longer
to make the same amount
as a man
and for what
so i can buy into a system thats already sold me out
it is this ennui
thats killing me
ive passed thru crowds
window shopping
for individuality
in a country
that stopped
stocking reality
long ago
startrhyming // June 3, 2008 at 8:59 pm
PERIOD PIECE
i watch my self
in the reflection of subway doors
(my) reality is permeated
by the song of the ice cream truck
and even though it’s past
memorial day there’s no water in the neighborhood pool.
sometimes the sun is so bright
i can’t see a god damn thing sometimes
my mind runs away
but i don’t reign it in
like when i drink too much jim beam
and start to talk.
recognizing patterns,
i’ve been staying
in more recently
being quiet
and running up
and down
all the stairs
in the city…
different kinds of exercise.
but mostly,
i watch myself.
in subway doors and store windows
traveling
miles before i sleep,
thinking of the future
taking shape.
i love $2 falafel sandwiches from the turks on macdougal
the christopher st pier
and sunset park.
i know what to do.