A poem a day for 2013 - day 170 - Juneteenth

On this Juneteenth I give thanks for my freedom
I honor my ancestors who were chained
Enslaved
Raped
Sold
Separated from their families
Their friends
Their home
Land

I cannot grasp fully the concept
Of working from can to can't
I do not know the sound a back makes
When bent too long from working in a field
For no pay
For beatings so horrendous
My splintered brain turns purple and prickle
To even try to imagine

Merciful Mother Father
Let me never know
Not even in my dream
The screech and blood
The ever stabbing knife
In the gut
In the soul
To watch babies I birthed
Gave name to
Stand on auction block
To disappear forever
O Heaven come catch my tears now

I honor my mothers and fathers
I celebrate your song and pain
I thank you for making way

There are no words for the pain and thistle of slavery
There are fewer words for Texas
Whose greedy and wretched and machete hearts
Refused to let go
My people
Would not free human beings
Law said was free
Your law

Selah
Selah

Thank you Mothers
Thank you Fathers

Thank You
Great Spirit
Who connects us all

Thank You for this day
This moment
This breath to breathe
This son to rear
This moon to lift my head

Thank You

For these arms to raise
High above this head
These free feet
Walk 'round this land

For these words
Spill out my mouth
So loud and free

This heart
This heart to forgive
To feel and remember
To love and make new

This life
To create and give back
Everything to
You

Juneteenth today

Research
Talk to somebody
Read somethin'
Tell somebody else

(Repeat)

The boys

Side eyeing the situation

Michael Hastings was killed in a car accident yesterday morning. I am so not believing that it was an accident. Yeah, no. I believe that his work as a journalist may have led him to something someone didn't want out or some conspiracy science like that. People who knew him say that he was often nervous, and probably rightly. Love to his friends and family.

Drown all firecrackers!

Every year 'round Fourth of July L.A. be on some plus size crunk. Shit's already real.

Michael Hastings, journalist, died this morning in a car accident in Los Angeles. Just Google him. Ok?

A poem a day for 2013 - day 169 - poem 2 - Gratitude

I am thankful for my self
I am thankful for small moments when
I see myself new
Again
I am thankful for time
Time to sit and stare into a mirror
Time to speak love to myself
To speak kind
To speak strawberry
To speak grapes
To speak colors all over myself

I am thankful for waking up this morning
For using my voice
For acknowledging my voice
For sharing and respecting my opinions
I am thankful that I recognize my opinions
As opinions
And not the rule of the world

I am thankful for every breath
I am thankful for song
For hum
For dance and feet to tap softly to
Music that butterflies the world

I am thankful for ladybugs
For summertime
I am thankful for the laughter of strangers
For the sound of ice cream trucks down my block
For black and brown and white
For red and yellow faces racing for
Single scoop of vanilla, chocolate
I am thankful for the Big Dipper with caramel and chopped nuts on top

I am thankful for words
Can you tell
Can you see I am thankful for my freedom
For your freedom
I am thankful for choice
And news

I am thankful for living for a living
In this moment
Living
Breathing
Until the next moment
And then the next

A poem a day for 2013 - day 169 - Smh

The Trayvon Martin case is lose for everyone
What does a win look like for the world in this situation
Zimmerman goes to jail and some white folks
Will out devil the devil
They are already out devil-ing
Zimmerman goes free and some black folks
Will...well...let's just say
Remember the time

The Roots

"It's just hip hop hangin' in my head heavy"

A poem a day for 2013 - day 168 - poem 2 - For Marvin Camper and growing up on the west side

For Marvin Camper

Today a childhood friend died

And I couldn't believe I had forgotten 

How touchable we are

How takable

Forgot how finite our breath is

And he is not his body

And he is not dead

None of us die

We change

We change 

But change is not comfort to his family

His friends

We played West Side Long Beach 

Games together

We freeze tag

We hide go seek

We all red rover red rovered together

We all went in at street lights together

We stood on bus stops

We all talked about each others mamas

Our playground was perfect rectangle

Called Cameron St. up Delta Ave. past John Muir back down Gale

We were kids

Playing in streets

Relay races

Kickball

The Campers had that dog

That ran 

That chased

That gate could not hold

J&J Market

Better get yo candy Tuesday cause they was closed on Wednesdays

We sat on Tara's porch together

Legs crossed 

Tight jeans

Collar shirts with alligator tags

Taper St. was better than the club

We ran cross my grand daddy's perfect grass

Nepa turned back flips

We were pop Warner baby Vidars

Shaking our baby booties in green and gold skirts

We were unstoppable

Everybody know you can't stop 

The Green Machine

We were undieable

And then Jerome left us too soon

We were the meaning of neighborhood

Ceddy and the boys chase us home from school

DeAngelo

Merle

Eugene

Melvin

Springdale crew

Silverado Park

Lolo's dad and my dad were best friends

Sonya

Monique

Keisha

The Coleys

Sean

Everybody better speak to Ms. Jones before she tell

Bridgette

Val

Ms. Williams

Poly High

Millikan

Wilson

John Muir

Webster

Bancroft

Hughes

Stevens

Hoover

We were our own reality show

Kissing contests in the park

Holding hands

First press and curls and weaved in ponytails

Shout out to my mother who took the neighborhood girls

To drive in movies on so many Friday nights

We play tetherball in my backyard 

Carrie had that lemon tree we shook

Ms. Green had them pink roses we took

This 

Is how

You

Grow

Up

Because poetry is everywhere

While shopping at The Goodwill I overheard a 40 something year old black woman talking on her phone. Characters and stories and lines are everywhere. If. We. Listen.

Woman on her phone: Yeah girl, that's why Ahm gon git her somethin' just for her. Pam always do for everybody else. She need a little gift that's just somethin' she can use. Ahm gon stop and git her some eyebrows on the way home.

(Don't you love when you can't guess the ending)

Reunion

I'm looking forward to the Gray Family Reunion coming up this weekend. The Grays were my grandmother's parents. I'm waiting for the familiar and unfamiliar faces. The stories. History. Voices. Creating new stories.