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poems of the week

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NEW YEARS 

His mom still sits in the doorway
longing for the child she lost
long before he left this place

no one seemed to like him
the girls turned away
the boys thought him strange

I slapped him once for some reason
not a very good one

He dressed In drag one Halloween
the gays called him freak
and wouldn't let him In there world

Then one New years eve
he gave his life
saving some children
from a burning building

On New years day
he was a hero

after that
when I would see her
I could almost feel her loneliness

some of us will never change hearts
but maybe he did 

Jim Roche (c) coralash@juno.com

================================================

BEYOND THE PLAINS OF PAIN

I belong to a people
so wounded, so hurt

I belong to a world
that wounds, that hurts

but my arms are long
my back is strong

to hold the pain
to take the hurts

in a lion's pride
till daylight comes

just look into my eyes
they look beyond the nose-tip

away from your world
away from your taunts

in vain your taunts anymore
drill blood from my veins

no more are those masked fingers
going to prone the avenues of my foothold
 
going to harvest my blessings again
never will they soil my hallelujahs anymore

it is the end,
the end of your shift.

Padmore Agbemabiese (c) agbemabiese.1@osu.edu

================================================

           THE SAME

do you know what they say
how hard we fought to stay together
that we wouldn't and shouldn't
still be together

you are the love my soul 
prayed for
the love that I stayed for
now that I have you and you are back
I just feel the need to tell you
that our train is off the track

While you were gone
I did some growing on my own
the old stuff no longer works
and your silence no longer hurts

See Boo, now I am healed
and your absences
are no longer felt
pack you shi*t and get out
play the hand you have been dealt

I have grown
and you have not
you have nothing
I have a lot
my self respect
and my esteem
are no longer
a 
distant dream

I have been to the mountain top
I've seen the light
and didn't enter
Jah gave me 
back my center

I have so much work to do
and the way you are
I can't take you

One day Hon
you will grow
and I love like this
I hope you too will know

I've see the sun
and I've basked in the light
embracing God
no longer scares me of makes me afraid
in his perfect image is where
i've laid


When you face the monster of death
the words I can't, I won't
no longer 
have breath

I can, I will
I do
Is all I can say to you
and as Jah as
my witness
I can't stay in love with you

Karen Roberts  (c) KAYC918@aol.com

===========================================================

            NO MORE

Until you face your tormentor 
There is and can be no us 
And never will be 
And so the story goes on 
Same -ol stuff we all face 
At some point in our lives most 
Run away 
Only to have their lives 
Become a broken record 
Over and over and over 
Again 
Others find the courage to break
Free 
When they say to themselves 
Enough is enough 
Or 
They just happen to run into 
A stranger or a close 
Friend 
To help them come to the 
Realization
That we are all meant 
To be happy 
There is a lot of good in the world 
Some are fortunate to find
Most 
Never realize but it is always close 
Waiting for you to take that first 
Step
There is no peace within until
You honor yourself 
And say no more 
  
Lee Tracey (c) blkmagic00@yahoo.com

================================================

DISPLACED

the first time my man left
my breath--
four-walled tornado--
wrestled to kill the silence in the room

i noticed an opacity in my tears
a loss that cared not for explanations
to feel silly when you are hurt 
is almost criminal
and to dress your wounds in the dark
feels kindda small
like childhood pain
you know, how pure it can be...

the first time he left
my breath 
poised over the sight
of his haphazard emotional suitcase
packed full and locked by the door
but never leaving the room

this incident mocked my drama
as it slit my soul
and let me know
my man would leave again
another day when he would swallow his words
in resentful pride
in childish quarrel
in irresponsible challenges that were never raised by me
so i sat there
and hoped we would meet again

today i have decided that we women
are not made of god's clay
or whats-his-name's ribs
but of hick-ups
or maybe tears that gloss our eyes but never fall
or then again
maybe we are made of tides
because i feel like i pull and drown and stiffle breath
and hesitate a lot
and i feel like i loom on the verges 
of feeling a lot

it becomes a burden of cosmic proportions
to look in the mirror in the morning
as anything could turn up
and he is never consistent in his appraisal
and i
am never flawless in my approach
because so much is at stake

i have this terry mcmillan induced terror
of turning my womanhood into a clown's act
so i often refuse to engage with the rhythm of the day
while my trenches are dug deep around me
because
independent of his understanding i am at war
against this world's co-optation of my warrior princess
...a brother may not understand sometimes
but a lot of times he just don't want to...

love is not medication either
but nobody told me that nor did they warn me
love could be drugs to the loveless crackhead in wait
just as mere crumbs of sunlight
would be gold to the blind
so the essentials of the soul are a rare blessing to me
and if i knew of another place i might go there
but i realize my ghosts prefer the familiar
so the emotional cross-country drive
gets postponed

i have played myself enough times
and now to rescue myself
the words will rain like fierce thunder
i hate when he says my tongue cuts
but if i bled for you then you must bleed for me
and for the truth imbedded and lost
in our screaming matches

his stakes are high...
somebody told this man that he holds all of life's high stakes
so me i am left to straddle fences
between being his woman, his sister
his mother and his lover
i must hold this same tongue i kiss him with
ask for the essentials like it's luxury
a terrified clown's act
as i feel like a huge bag of hick-ups

i begin to understand in these moments
what the grandmothers talk about
the subtle ropes that bind us
the negotiations we deny engaging in
and the question remains
for what do we sell are voices ?

only to the point that i can sober up
with a glass of water
and curse a brother out
am i still redeemed
(and my hick-up state is not terminal)
but i notice a change of tempo
for those few minutes of unadulterated grief
during which 
my cynical mother was right after all

this empty minutes
collect themselves in little holes
where i once laid melodies
and they take the form 
of the world's number one woman-killer:
common sense...

love i tell you
is not medication

Janine de Novais (c) jd161@columbia.edu

================================================

When One Door Shuts

We can hide inside ourselves
only for so long
before our true being
comes shining through.
We can harbor fears,
disappointments,
unrest,
and indecision from the world -
Until we turn blue.
But what good does that do?
Sometimes I pretend everything is okay
when I know it's really not.
That's what good "little girls" are supposed to do-
Or at least, that's what I'm taught.
But today,
I took the time to search my heart.
I took off the mask that smiles to the world;
I let go of my fear - I was all alone;
We can hide inside ourselves only for so long-
we can dream;
we can hope;
we can cry;
we can pray;
Only then can we move on.

Tyese Dantzler (c) DANTZLER@hotmail.com





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