Poem on Your Blog Day
Today in New York, it is “Poem in Your Pocket Day.” Everyone is invited to carry their favorite poem with them to share with friends and family. Ronn ran with the concept and has encouraged bloggers to post poems on their sites.
Now, I’ve never been that much of a poetry buff but was actually quite surprised to find I had so much to choose from around the house. Sticking with my personal interests as expressed on this blog, here are a couple I found interesting.
Brothers loving brothers
Vega
Brother to Brother: New Writings by Black Gay Men 1991
Respect yourself, my brother,
for we are so many wondrous things.
Like a black rose,
you are a rarity to be found.
Our leaves intertwine as I reach out to you
after the release of a gentle rain.
You precious gem,
black pearl that warms the heart,
symbol of ageless wisdom,
I derive strength
from the touch of your hand.
Our lives blend together
like rays of light;
we are men of color,
adorned in shades of tan, red,
beige, black, and brown.
Brothers born from the same earth womb.
Brothers reaching for the same star.
Love me as your equal.
Love me, brother to brother.
Telephone Booth Number 507
Pedro Pietri
Aloud: Voices from the Nuyorican Poets Cafe 1994
I will jump out the window
if that’s what it takes
to satisfy you sexually,
but only if you live in the
basement
The Revolution Was Postponed Because of Rain
David Allen
Aloud: Voices from the Nuyorican Poets Cafe 1994
The underlying
immediate
political
socio-economic
and trigger mechanism causes
were all in place when
some nee-gro or the other got hungry
had to stop at the McDonalds
had to get on the line
with the new trainee cashier
“uhh, where’s the button for the fries?”
so we missed the bus
Then the leader couldn’t find his keys
didn’t want some poor ass moving
his brand new 20” and VCR
out his living room on the shoulders.
It was too late when the locksmith came
Then our demo expert Willie Blew got arrested
came out with his head hanging under his hoody
“Didn’t know they started doing that
for jumping the turnstiles,” he said.
“How many times must we tell you--
don’t get caught.”
we voted against shootin’ him on the spot
In the winter we were all depressed
so we leaned our guns against the sofas
and listened instead to Tim Tim Tiree
singing about his dysfunctions:
Sometimes I wonder if ah’ll ever be free
free of the sins of my brutish daddee
Like the cheating, the stealing, the drinking, and the beating...
The weatherman said the 17th would be sunshine
and it wouldn’t be too hot--
Tim Tim Tiree doesn’t like sweatin’
but that night the weatherman came on crying
saying he didn’t control the weather
that God was real
that he’s lucky He, God, didn’t strike him, the weatherman, with lightning
for taking the credit sometimes
and that he, the weatherman, was in no way responsible
for the hurricane coming
and that we, the viewers, should
pray Jesus into our hearts
before it was too late
Superbowl Sunday was out
all the women wanted
to see the game
and the men were pissed
at their insensitivity
The 20th was supposed to be a definite
we looked for some Bastille to storm
didn’t find any
settled on the armory instead
before they moved the homeless in
“We’ll bum-rush it anyway,” i said
“It smells like a collection
of a thousand farts in there,” they said
So we waited for the approval of the city
contract to build a Bastille
which set the revolution back five years.
Peace wanted to start the revolution on Tuesday
She was in a pissed-off mood
her tax return didn’t come in time for the rent
But they showed the We Are the World video
on cable that evening
and we all held hands
and cried to stop from laughing
and our anger subsided
Looking back, it could’ve been a plot
but there are more substantive plots to expose
than the We Are the World conspiracy
Now we wait for the rain to stop
All forces on the alert
some in Brooklyn basements
packed in between booming speakers
listening to Shabba Ranks and Arrested Development
bogling and doing the east coast stomp
gargling with Bacardi and Brown Cow
breaking that monotony with slow movements--
slow, hip-grinding movements
with the men breathing in the women’s ears to
Earth Wind & Fire’s Reasons
and wondering what the weather will be like
next weekend.
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