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Looking Outward
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Adrienne's Party
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Looking Outward
Angela Riddick-Askew
People always ask... "How can you, eat alone?"
I respond by saying, "I'm already there."
They wonder, "How is
it, you get in your car and
drive a long winding road, with no destination in mind?"
I simply answer, "I'm already there."
"How is it, you can walk into a theater...simply alone?
They just don't get it, "I'm already there."
You see, ..."I'm not
concerned with who will be there
to talk to, to laugh with, to hold hands with, if even to dance
with,
because, before I get there, I'm already there...
There's no better person
I'd be more happier to see
and be with, than to be with my soul,
who's already there
Start Looking Inward
If
Poetry wuz Phat
(5/15/97 for T.W., J.V., C.C.)
Denise Johnson
if poetry wuz phat
it'd be rippin' society all up in pieces
broken down so far even Phd's couldn't decipher it
and if they tried, their degrees would disintegrate
if poetry wuz phat
and I ain't talking' 'bout that
"valleys and green pastures"
or the "hereto-for-thee-whilst-thou-loveth-me?" crap
I'm talking' about present and future izms
with verses that make your soul flow
make you wanna jump up and down
like a church ho
so phat, gangstas be tryin' to assassinate it
and you'd be hearin' on the 6 o'clock news
'bout the daily drivebys--but they can't kill it--cuz its' bigger
than us all
I'm talking' funky-fresh-def
jammin'-rickety-raw-phat poetry
so phat, the surgeon general would mandate warnings
on every poetry chapbook, anthology, and magazine
statin' that free flowing, soul-jarring verse is
--HAZARDOUS TO YOUR HEALTH--
cuz it opens the heart and expands the mind
and nikki g, amiri b, & ishmael reed--my Big 3--
they'd be the phillip morris of the poetry industry
sending out lobbyist like maya angelou to soften up congress and
the president (cuz see, with this drug, he had to inhale!)
and spokesperson sonia sanchez would make a statement saying that:
"rumors that the Big
3 have raised the funk
levels of verbal nicotine causing people to
become easily addicted are untrue"
and their studies show this--but they won't release the info
and if poetry wuz phat
there'd be a literary CIA called PISS
(poetically impaired self-righteous suckas)
whose mission would be to
silence the funk and kill the jism
and the ghosts of langston hughes, james baldwin
and richard wright, channeling thru gwendolyn brooks,
would break open the scandal that PISS
was selling nickel bags of synthetic poetic funk--
tryin' to fool the masses and get them addicted to the fake crap
but nobody would care cuz it wuz all non-profit--
proceeds: to fund a contra-like group
goal: to keep melanin-enhanced poets quiet.
if poetry wuz phat
if poetry wuz phat
you could dial 1-900-976-P-O-E-M
and get your daily verbal fix for $3.99 a minute
so phat, it would be the dawn of new religions
and existing in my pen a literary Mecca where:
there is no poetry but free
verse;
all hijaabs would be stitched w/the Black Poets Anthology;
and every righteous poet wrote 5 poems a day
and there'd be places of worship like;
United Church of Poets
Church of Poets in Poetry
the Church of Poetry and Latter-Day-Poets
(where you could marry more than one poet)
and for the serious folx,
the Pentacostal Poets
if poetry wuz phat
could you truly comprehend
that it's bigger than us all?
and this could be the New World Order
a new (r)evolution
if poetry wuz phat!
The
Last Stand
(A tale about a man named Slider)
Sadorian
The air was hot and thick,
like they were breathing cotton.
When the dust settled, the both of them stood
staring each other down like rattlesnakes about to strike.
Like a grim judge casting a sentence of death, an old dusty crow
let out
a caw into the wind. They drew their weapons
and squeezed the lead venom.
The bullet caught Dodge
in the chest, just below his badge.
The blood oozed down his vest as he shot off 3 rounds into the
air.
The drops of life sizzled when they hit the gravel, as if his
soul was
leaving his flesh. Then he fell to the ground, grabbing his chest,
letting out a cry into the wind.
Slider, still poised to
squeeze off another round at the first sign of
resistance, gun still smoking, slung his piece back into the holster
like a soldier that had done his duty. At the tip of a hat, an
about
face....he mounted his horse and rode into the sunset as the jury
began
circling above. Justice served.
Vultures in a tree
Feels like rain
But it's pee
Eyes burning
I can't see
Still turning
Stankin' misery
It's hot!
My forehead's the pot
The drippin's got the flames sizzlin'
Help!
They're raining on me
Myself
And I can't see
Vultures in a tree
All over the country
Wanting
Contemplating
The meals coming
Running!
Blind they're still behind
Flapping
Bird rapping
Close to the ground
I turned to call their bluff
Feathers went puff
Kicking as they tore at me
No pain
I know it hurts
What does it gain
No shirt
I threw sand into the air
But still they knew exactly where
With that road kill stare
The birds were aware
That I was scared
Tenderizin' the main course anatomy
Vultures from the tree
From where do the roots get nutrients
No soil for botany
Shredded pants bare like a baby
Main course ingredients
Hands and feet
I found a hole
But they're still dancing
I grew fear wings
Flew from their conquering scream
I can't breathe
Static electricity
Shocking
Clock tick tocking
A dream
Brrrrrrriiiiiiing!
Awoke under the covers sweating
Seven in the morning
No vultures in the tree
At least not this dreamality
A good way to start the New Year is with
a party. However the usual wild party is not what I got this particular
year. I live in a small town and that's why I went to college
in the city. I hate to admit it, but I just wanted to move where
nobody knew me or my family. Some place I could be judged for
myself. Well, this is my last semester in college and up to now
I have had a ball. My college life and my home life are so different.
In college I matured into a positive young woman, but when I come
home I am treated as though I am still in high school. I do not
come home often. The dorms were closing for Christmas vacation
so I had to come home.
Everything would be boring if not for my cousins and friends. Hanging out with them makes home bearable. My cousin Tammy and I are an unusual pair of loyal relatives-slash best friends. When we planned a party for New Year's Eve night Tammy's boyfriend decided to foot the bill. I know he is a dealer, but he has never involved her or me in his "business" dealings. He has a good heart, a good head on his shoulders and a supportive family. I generally like him.
We got a hotel room and I got a blind date. My date, Steve, picked
up Tammy and me at her house. We left Tammy to set up at the hotel
room while Steve and I went to pick up her boyfriend and his brother.
Steve parked the car and we walked across a basketball court to
his house. Adrienne, Tammy's boyfriend, lives in the projects
away from the street. The three of us talked while waiting for
Adrienne's brother Bernard. When Bernard arrived, Steve went to
get the car and meet us at the corner by the playground.
After closing up the house, Adrienne gave me his house key to
hold because he did not have any pockets. We walked through the
playground toward the lighted street comer.
We linked arms while singing off key the "Laverne and Shirley"
show theme. A guy in a black hooded sweatshirt appeared out of
nowhere and stepped and blocked our path.
"Bernard, you got my stuff?" The hooded man asked.
"Man, I gave it to you. Don't play." Bernard let go of my arm.
"I need more. You know that." He demanded.
"I don't have any! Look man, it's New Year's Eve and I'm with my friends. Tomorrow will be business as usual. OK?" Bernard tried to reason with him.
Before we knew it, they guy moved on Bernard and stabbed him with a short bladed knife. Bernard sagged to the ground blood soaking his shirt.
"Run!" Adrienne yelled pushing me out in front.
I stumbled but regained my footing to dart through the obstacles in the playground. I saw Steve drive slowly by on the street. Before I could say, "There's Steve," Adrienne yelled out behind me. I turned to see the hooded man pull the knife out of Adrienne's back.
"Run! Don't stop! Take my keys and go!" Adrienne screamed at me.
I forgot I had his house key. I didn't have to turn around to know the man was coming after me. I fumbled with the key in the lock but opened the door. I locked it behind me and leaned back. Seconds later the door rattled against my back. There was a clang and the door knob vibrated.
I had to think. Quickly I ripped a lamp out of the socket and
got into the coat closet behind the door. I put my foot in the
door and pulled it to. I hoped he would bust open the door, knocking
it against the closet door. He wouldn't know where I was until
it was too late.
The door shuddered again then gave away. I repressed a yell when
the door hit the closet door and my toes. I saw his shadow pass
the crack. Quietly I slipped out the closet. He was on his way
to the kitchen when I whacked him across the neck with the brass
lamp. He dropped the hammer he had been holding and fell on all
fours. I hit him repeatedly until he was unconscious and blood
trickled from his neck. I searched the room until I found an extension
cords to tie him up. I called 911 then sat on the step where I
could see him to wait. In the cold I said a silent prayer for
Bernard and Adrienne. They were or are good guys. Adrienne might
have had a future. Nobody deserved to go out like this; like a
statistic.
To Get Away
Angela Riddick-Askew
We all long to get away,
from the hustle and bustle of it all,
To pack up the car and travel a long winding road,
To jet away, high above
the clouds, to unfamiliar faces and street car names,
To simply get away from our all too familiar domains.
But I caution you on that dream of yoursto get away
You see...to get away means
to travel in time, to a land unfamiliar to your soul,
It means to travel uncharted water - go places you've never been.
To get away does not mean
a brand new remote control,
To get away means to forget about lamps and TVs and use candle
light and warm fireplaces as your source of light.
To get away does not mean
rush from here to there
Rather it means discarding the watch and letting God order your
steps.
To get away does not mean
to be lonely or in the company of many,
Whether solo or partnered, to get away means enjoying the quietness
of the moment and reflecting on how you're living your life.
To get away does not mean to dine at familiar places,
Rather to get away means
opening up your mind and taste buds to the finer
things in life and trying things you've never ever tasted before.
To get away means searching
for that seldom visited place in your soul where
your deepest desires await exploration.
To get away means long hot candle lit baths, soothing music just a whisper away, rubbing your body with sensual oils and fantasizing in a way that evokes one's sweetest
To get away means to spontaneously run to the beach and forget where you left your shoe,
To get away means to travel to unfamiliar places and know deep within your heart that you couldn't possibly be anywhere else!
When's the last time you got away?
And
Another Artist Dies Known To All Except Her Family
Nichole L. Shields
They never understood
why
all the letters came
They never understood
all the telephone calls
and telegrams
and unexpected visits
from people of all walks of life
They never understood
why flowers were sent
from way 'cross the country
They never knew,
They never realized,
that not only did their loved one,
their strange loved one,
the one that always wrote
those funny things
on any piece of paper
that she could find
And
they never understood
why she did or said the
things that she did
Again, they just thought
that she was strange!
They never knew,
they never understood,
and perhaps,
they never will.