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Hairpeace by Walidah Imarisha


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Exploring

I’ve recently been evaluating what I’m dong in this world we call Spoken Word Poetry
For I am simply a writer whose writings end up being things people call poems
My writings are therapy for all the things I go through in life
They are away of exploring my thoughts and feelings
And most times after exploring those thoughts and feelings with paper and pen
I no longer wish to explore them again
And that is why I’m evaluating my place in this world called Spoken Word Poetry
I am finding it difficult to place myself in the same emotional stat I was in when I wrote the poem

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Skin

Sometimes I wish my skin was transparent
So that the world can see my battle scars
And understand who I am inside
If only they could see the scar tissue on my heart
From the many heartbreaks I’ve suffered
If only they could see the ulcers in my stomach
From all the bullshit I’ve had to swallow
If only they could see the healed bone fractures
From all the falls I’ve taken
If only they could see all the dark spots on my lungs
From all the polluted air that I’ve had to breathe
If only they could see all the deep muscle bruises
From all the hard hits I’ve taken

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By-Standing Video by Kelly Zen-Yie Tsai


Login to CurrentTV and vote for Kelly's video. Click on the following links for an interview with Kelly and the text of the poem.
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I Am Not a Palestinian by Poet Gihad Ali


Gihad Ali performs her poem "I Am Not a Palestinian" at the 3rd National Assembly of United for Peace and Justice, the country's largest grassroots antiwar coalition.

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Bowery Women Rapture Reading 6/12

Please join us as some of the most outrageous poets from the Bowery Women anthology treat us to their latest!

Event: Bowery Women Rapturous Reading

Place: Rapture Café and Books
200 Avenue A (near 13th Street)

Date: Tues. June 12

Time: 7:00 p.m.

Admission: Free
Featuring

Amy Ouzoonian, Gabriella Santoro, Jennifer Blowdryer,
Sarah Herrington, Tara Betts and special guests
from

Bowery Women: Poems

a new anthology from Bowery Books
Bob Holman and Marjorie Tesser, Editors

Contact:
email bowerywomen@gmail.com
www.bowerypoetry.com/bowerywomen

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By-Standing: The Beginning of an American Lifetime


by Kelly Zen-Yie Tsai

I am no flower child
I do not wear glasses down on the bridge of my nose
I do not brag my unshaven hair or hold illusions about the wisdom of the East
I do not wave my fingers in a V to bid peace upon greeting or
think that the revolution alone will be enough to save us

My family would more likely be mistaken for boat people

I do not know how the texture of bobby socks and poodle skirts changed for
eyes learning to refocus on the blood of Viet Nam, Kent State, Malcolm X, JFK, MLK ...

I've only read about these things.

1986
I remember a third grade classmate talking about the commies
And how blowing them up was a good idea
Crayola tanks Rambo-ing over stick figure carnage
Proud to grow up one day just like his father
A drill sergeant who made a habit of hitting his mother

All I knew was that none of this seemed like a good idea

1991
7th grade was the first peace protest that I had ever seen
Girls wrote, "Make love not war" in bubble letters on poster board
Cutting class to save the world
As soon as Desert Storm was announced over the school PA
The conflict, we were told, didn't last much longer than the demonstration

I tied a yellow ribbon to a safety pin on my backpack
Someone told me it was to remember the soldiers
Who went off to war, I didn't know any soldiers then

Our hippie teacher with the wild hair showed us a video
About alcoholism on Native American reservations
And asked my friend's father to talk about Viet Nam
We asked him if he'd ever killed anyone
He looked at us so calmly that we knew he was mad
He said that he didn't have to answer that question

1995
At 16 and 17, hallways were filled
With guys wrestling, working my nerves
Homosexuality, their greatest weapon for insult
Too shy to say what they really meant
Or be who they really were

Just like all of us

Scanning newspaper columns
I realized that as much as I hated them some days
That they could be taken away on their 18th birthdays
And what would the emptiness be like that filled their places?
And how would they know why that emptiness was made at all?

1997

By susan at 2006-05-23 01:38 | | read more | 1 comment
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