#spoken word
Found amazing Spoken Word content on Spotify that I decided to make a playlist for it. Give it some love and appreciation.
How Are You?
“I’m okay.”
At least that’s what I tell you
and what I tell myself
Because for as long as I can remember,
there’s been this odd feeling
deep, deep, deep inside of me
that I can’t quite explain
and it wouldn’t go away
Some days it consumes me
downplays even the littlest of the good things that happened to me
It’s as if I deserve this
and I have no right to be happy
I am easily irritated
I push people away
even if all I wanted was to call out their name
and ask them to stay
But what frustrates me the most
is that I no longer appreciate
all of the things that made my worries dissipate
I look at art; I used to make art
because art is supposed to make you feel something
But how is that even possible now
when the void only keeps on growing
and at the end of the day, you still feel like you’re missing something?
That’s why I say I’m “okay”
Two letters or four,
however you spell it
It looks simple and easy
It doesn’t ask any questions
It doesn’t take much out of my depleting energy
And that’s what I want right now —
what I think I need
Some people see past my fictitious testimonies,
my false confidence, false smile, false laugh
So it looks like I’m not succeeding
in the illusion that I keep conjuring
They tell me to man up and to stop overthinking
They tell me to snap out of it; there are bigger problems than my own
Gee, Karen, I didn’t know it was that easy! I should have thought about that sooner
Now, I think you’ve cured me!
I look around me and see how people can just simply be happy
My friends are going to med school,
they’ve defended their thesis,
they sleep in on weekends,
they have time to watch a movie
It looks like things come to them so naturally
Then only one thing invades my thoughts in the wee hours of the morning:
why can’t that be me?
Deep down I know that those things can be misleading;
that these people also have things that they’re keeping
We might have the same struggles,
there’s just a little difference in the details
It’s just that these bad brain days
make me feel like I’m beyond repair,
and this distorted way of thinking is here to stay
and keep me in despair
I tried everything there is:
books that help you rediscover your purpose,
catch up with my good ol’ friends,
chant while in the sitting position called “lotus”,
and redirect my focus to school things instead
I’ll admit that it somewhat helped
and suddenly, things are no longer as intense
So here I am, thinking, “Did I…just make that up in my head?”
So one day, I find myself singing again
ABBA, Beyoncé, Kanye, you name it
I’ve set my mind on grad school
I’m working on defending my thesis
You wouldn’t even believe that I got eight hours of sleep last weekend
I also just watched a whole season of good TV
I didn’t even know that the agents of SHIELD had been battling the Kree
Gosh, I don’t want this feeling to end
But that good, happy place doesn’t last
and the emptiness creeps in way too fast
I thought I’ve had a good grip on this new reality
How did I let it get taken out of my hands?
Here we go again
It’s barely been a minute since I actually felt sane
Here we go again with this random period of crippling paranoia
“Can we please chill for a minute, dear brain?”
No.
And it was there when I came to understand
why people jumped in front of moving trains,
why they threw themselves off buildings,
why some chose to drink the night away
— a quick fix
Acting as quickly as the void that swallowed them whole;
as quickly as their desire to put it all to an end
They say that the truth will set you free;
they say it’ll bring about inner peace,
help you go to bed and finally get a good night’s sleep
but there are always two sides of the same coin
and we rarely talk about the other story,
the one where the truth can be filled with pain and agony
the one that makes us feel that we’re locked up in a box
and then suffocated by a bag full of life’s atrocities
I wish more people would see this truth
that I’m still me and you’re still you
that we are not the demons inside our minds
that every day is a fight to no longer be slaves of the pain we feel inside
I long for the day
where I could be honest
look you in the eye, take a deep breath, and say,
“The truth is, I am not okay.”
I wrote this spoken word poetry piece in the quiet of the morning in my favorite café. All 827 words in under 20 minutes. There were no tears shed in the process of writing and practicing until today, where I broke down mid-performance in front of my literature professor and 16 of my classmates. I guess it was only then and there where I really felt every word I uttered. I was so focused on extracting those feelings and putting them into words, I neglected to understand what they meant. So here I am, back in the café, coming to a realization that there’s still so much pain left inside of me, even if for the past few days I feel like I’m finally getting back on my feet. It’ll probably take a little bit more effort (and maybe even that spiritual retreat next week) to achieve some sort of inner peace, but I’m glad I made this progress of acknowledging my truth today.
If you ever find yourself resonating with this piece, I wish I could surround you with fluffy clouds, cute lil’ bunnies, and all the good things. If you need a friend, my inbox is open 24/7.
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Thuli Zuma, 90trillion
You are miracle.
a quilt of dreams stitched together with blood, bone and limb
and even on those dark days,
though the voices in your head will not agree;
you are not defect
you are not damaged
you are not default
you are not sorry
and you should not be.you are miracle,
you are harmony
you are ninety-trillion cells weaving new tapestry,
each one testifies to the mysterythat even on the worst day,
even at your worst
you are still your best
you are miracleyou are miracle
Why is it you insist on walking through this life
as though you are any less?So gorgeous. This is the type of poetry I aspire to be, to write.
A year ago today, #AmandaGorman’s#spokenword poem captivated the world. In her new book #SpeakingTruths, sociologist (and TSC founder) Valerie Chepp shows how #youth use spoken word #poetry & the power of their own biographies to incite #justicehttps://tinyurl.com/34n8cyxjhttps://tinyurl.com/u3tsanac#activism@RutgersUPress
We’re Honored to Have Such an Extraordinary and Diverse Group of Artists Featured in Blackout Music & Film Festival’s Signature Artist Showcase. Check Out the Artwork Above and Join Us at The GRAMMY Museum on Saturday, August 29 for Art, Panels, Movies, Music and More: http://bit.ly/1NviXBK
- The Signature Artist Showcase Features Adrian Franks, Hank Willis Thomas, Synthia Saint James, Bayeté Ross Smith, Damon Davis, Shikeith, Mariella Angela, Nikkolos Mohammad, Viewing of Smithsonian Museum Photography Book Through the African American Lens, Spoken Word Performances and More
For more information, please visit www.blackoutforhumanrights.com and join us on Facebook,Twitter,Instagram,Tumblr,Vine, and YouTube.
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The line.
The line is a back alley surgeon.
It says your liver, it don’t look good
and pockets aren’t full but we’re good
less a scalpel and more
at knife point robbing
like an alley crook would
The line is a magician
step up to the show
see how the collared workers know
their taxed labor goes: poof
disappears but don’t see
whose wallet it when to though
The line is a drama queen
yelling I’m quick I’m falling
please rescue me
tipping back it’s own chair
waiting for that safety net
of citizen’s green
The line is fickle
and it thinks those people
they aren’t humble enough
thinks Raytheon’s belly
it rumbles too much
hungry for missiles to tumble above
The line is watching
as a pandemic spits spreading
it does a little dance yelling
while coffers open to it
and coffins doors are closing
on poor coughing souls departing
The line isn’t an object
its made of people.
Who themselves aren’t abject
but paid hedgers profitable
banking the billions off
the backs of the raging bull
markets mean murder for some
and mansions for fewer
and they laugh from on hilltops
while we watch from the sewers
and it plays out both in motions
of the line.
A poem about Trump being elected and Trayvon Martin by LindoYes
His Instagram is LindoYes
pretty pretty bird bird
I told myself this before I had pulled the blinds down, leaving the room drenched in an artificial darkness. I sat on the cold, half-tiled floor of our bathroom. They were words I would repeat over and over in an attempt to make them stick. Felix tried to help. After all, he was the one who instilled the theory of halves in me. He sat, slumped, back pushed against the door I had hastily locked when I tore into the bathroom.
L'ÉPHÉMÈRE REVIEW: ISSUE VII: CREPÚSCULO Where anything and everything can happen.
Click here to read CICATRIX; short story written by Madeleine Dawn and published by L'ÉPHÉMÈRE REVIEW.
“I know my sweet seductress, and her name is Depression. I wrote best beneath that demon’s destructive oppression.”
Levithepoet - corrispondence - chapter 3
(You can visit my instagram page @jungleflowerenergy to view the closed captioned version of this poem)
TOXIC MASCULINITY - Please repost!
I was NOT expecting this to happen. Please tag someone who would appreciate this
I’d written Firefly, my first poem, only because someone had asked me to. I didn’t consider myself a poet and wrote nothing again until a year later (2013) when @jeffperera invited me to perform something for a conference he created around ending toxic masculinity. I wrote this piece for it and this was the first time I performed it. I was battling stage fright the entire time.
Waiting for my turn to perform, I was shaking. My friends gathered lovingly around me and prayed. Along with the stage fright I was also terrified that I would forget my words which is why you’ll see me clutching my notebook for dear life. You’ll also later see me shaking my head in disbelief because this outcome was the last thing I was expecting. My fear of public speaking dissipated after this. During a phase in my life where I spent a lot of energy dodging cameras, to have this major turning point caught on film (by Paul) was such a blessing. Grateful to see intelligent souls like @patrickcwalters@seedandcerassee@letssavematthew@rene_riiise@joanneswritingsand@mstoddart68 going off in the audience.
They say fear is the opposite of love, and it seems like the more fears I face, the more I find myself surrounded by a loving community. I had major stage fright and I never claimed the title ‘poet’, but here I stand as living proof that our throat chakras are strengthened when we speak our truth.
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Nov 16 in Toronto. Link in bio #jungleflowerdragonheart
I wrote this ages ago, before I knew the real you.
Welcome to November breakdown no. 1
After some time off, welcome to chapter two of my raw feelings in times new roman.
