Kick Push
Poetry in Motion presents Lupe Fiasco in his awesome music video, Kick Push.
Author: A. Long
“You crawl thro…
“You crawl through broken glass and dogshit for love if that’s what it takes”
–5th Probation Worker, The Misfits
Knuckles and Knees: Part Two
I fought a door once.
My hands bled for all of five minutes.
I fought a man that same day, and they didn’t feel a thing. The scabs were more interesting to look at. They made my knuckles bulge and harder than before.
Darker too.
Now my knuckles match my knees.
The Brooklyn Chronicles: Ch 2
The DMV,
Atlantic Avenue?
violent upheaval
don’t send me
The Department of Motor Vehicles
a black hole, loud and exploding
absence of life
that place makes me pray
for a quick, quiet death
Philly Story #63
Herbert Holmes is
homeless
he heaves heavy bags of trash for food everyday
hunger scrambling across his tongue
less homes than people
houses hollow of happiness he hollers
he mumbles then
humbled and homely
his Heavenly father is the only one to visit him on the streets
huddled against high-rises,
underneath society’s hazy gaze
Maybe he hates or waits for
a harbinger of humanity
Herbert Holmes is hopeless
but no less than a man
so why do I hesitate,
feeling helpless
Look Up: A Spoken Word Film for an Online Generation
‘Look Up’ is a lesson taught to us through a love story, in a world where we continue to find ways to make it easier for us to connect with one another, but always results in us spending more time alone. Written, Performed & Directed…
The Poet
He sang of life, serenely sweet,
With, now and then, a deeper note.
From some high peak, nigh yet remote,
He voiced the world’s absorbing beat.
He sang of love when earth was young,
And Love, itself, was in his lays.
But ah, the world, it turned to praise
A jingle in a broken tongue.
–Paul Laurence Dunbar
Taste The Rainbow
I’ve always wanted to taste the rainbow
listen to the wind
know what men are thinking
cure my skin problem with those around me
drink a little bit
Learn to jump double dutch
to trust that first leap of a heartbeat when he speaks
hate deeply
truly master an art
to fold towels properly
to listen again
Wax something
Grow something
Write the word write, right, and rite in a sentence
Hold onto secrets and let go of others
Figure out why line breakers and punctuation should be important in poetry
and then blissfullynotcare
Find something I can’t live without
someone I can’t live without
Dance
I haven’t been embarrassed in a while so I’m probably due
In the meantime, that’s just some stuff I wanted to do.
Jerusalem
On a roof in the Old City
Laundry hanging in the late afternoon sunlight:
the white sheet of a woman who is my enemy,
the towel of a man who is my enemy,
to wipe off the sweat of his brow.
In the sky of the Old City
a kite.
At the other end of the string,
a child
I can’t see
because of the wall.
We have put up many flags,
they have put up many flags.
To make us think that they’re happy.
To make them think that we’re happy.
–Yehuda Amichai, translated by Stephen Mitchell
Burnt Brown Sugar
I wondered if it tastes like brown sugar
the way you’d kiss my skin hungry You never told me that your lips like plump pockets knives were devised to devour my sanity These were visceral screams of pitiful self-esteem etched and bound into the seams of this epidermis because of the way you looked at it This is for the boy who paralyzed my sense of touch and any loving hands would just feel like his claws again I remember hickies on my breasts hating that you had bitten into my chest in an effort to get to my heart straight through my rib cage playful pokes of lust as you joked you’d choke the life out of me if I told I am tired from over exhausting battle but I remain a soldier forging on to inevitable victory, keep fighting until you get sick of me as fear fucks me alone in the dark tears stream as he thrusts harder and harder I scream but there is no sound now I lay me down to sleep I pray thee lord my soul to keep I pray, with my face buried in the sorrow filled pillow will he still be there tomorrow? I toss off covers and stumble through my black blanket looking for comfort the storm has blurred their vision and they can’t see that I have cried those raindrops look closely at my cheek, you can trace the salty path everyone’s distracted by the lightening’s wrath as it whips and cracks light across her back she lies on her back cracks her legs and submits to him again and again wondering when the storm will end She reaches out wanting to touch her ancestors feel the drums as they play in the background of sweltering heat as the sunrises off the coast of New Guinea bucking the land and tonguing the plains with fire She reaches out to the water pooled on the ceiling splashes her mouth and thighs inside is a river as deep and wide as the Mississippi She reaches out but can only feel fear sweating next to her Measured my worth by my hips
so I changed my walk, trying to not exist in a place that reflected a face you were so eager to kiss This is for the boys who need to learn to touch without breaking
The Poetry Corner 