Freewrite Poetry

months later I am still haunted
by the fear his death caused
the desparation of her
as she tried to put the glasses
over his closed eyes
would he smile to see us?
grown bodies weeping around his body
would he feel the love
and know that he was never an imposition
the thought of him still seeps in months later
just bring up the subject of death
I can still see us in the kitchen
surrounded by other people's food
the pictures on the floor picked for the obit
snippets of your memories
the bitter melancholy in my mother's voice
as though she was searching for a time
and my grandmother
lost in the past
not believing you weren't in Mississippi
driving home to her.

Do it Again, Stroke 9

I am doing an analysis paper on SEPs, (Syringe Needle Exchanges). SEPs have been approved in other countries and embraced as a way to prevent HIV. Evidence shows that it does not promote drug use. We are even requiring other countries seeking our help to have this plan implemented. Yet there is a ban on federal funding.

According to avert.org, Roughly one tenth of new HIV infections result from needle sharing.
In the United States, according to the CDC, it is the cause of one third of cases.
They also point out that non-injection users are at risk for AIDS. It's the standard drugs effect your judgment leading you to make bad sexual decisions.

Injecting drug users (IDUs) have been among the groups most affected by HIV & AIDS since the epidemic began. Sharing syringes is a very efficient way to transmit blood-borne viruses such as HIV, which can spread rapidly through IDU populations. The sharing of needles and “works” (syringes, water, mixing spoon, etc.) is thought to be three times more likely to transmit HIV than sexual intercourse.

that is from their injection page. I am loving this site. I think these are even more reasons why the ban that's been on since 1988 should be taken off. There are already at least 190 programs in the United States spread out through 36 states. I don't believe this is enough.

This is the CDC site.


I love linking (as you can see) and I love research even though this was lite research. I am looking forward to this paper.

New. Old.

I decided that instead of making a new account when I have plenty, I will just redo the old one.

On this blog will be articles that I find interesting (anything from slave reparations to Syringe Needle Exchange) and poetry. I am a poet so there will be poems.

I have this linked.

The articles will force me to go online and read something other junk...

yay me.

starts tomorrow. Topic: I don't know yet.

freewrite

she walks into closed doors
falls off broken paths
while feeling past fingers invading personal space
beliefs, she is gone
inside she is being eaten by something non viral
non genetic
but inherited from past generations of woman
who strive to feel orgasms in a dead world
passive sighs reach from fenkell to six mile
as she tries to work up the courage
the rage to push past this place
blanket pallet on the floor where he
reached his way to her world
where she welcomed him in something close
to dispair
she aligns herself with a city no longer there
referred mostly by shakes of heads
she shakes her ass
this is supposed to be sexy
but she's gone
she fell hit her head
and her heart bleeds on the floor
while he feels her up.

Lugs--"fat women give the nicest hugs"

she's got to lug it around
this neon sign of baggage
she carries it on her hips, thighs
buttocks
sometimes they whisper at
the pretty package
knowing its sign of weakness
she'll be easy to tame
a promise not to run
pretty when she sleeps
funny when she moves
it hurts her back
the weight of big breasted beauties
its what her father's side gave her
she has to lug it around
its a trick
spaces are traps for embrassments
and 'excuse me's' are slips of guilt
she cries in silent and presents false pride
in loud colors
she doesn't see herself in magazines
only on special epsoides does she have sex
they would rather dunk her formless flower sacks
and drown her pills
her ears are still ringing from the latest attack
concerned looks at the second helping
cos she's got to lug it around
but at the same time
as much as it hurts
she's got to love herself
and rebuild what laughter destroyed....

okay i wrote this poem in my head after Easter dinner, revised it twice. might revise it again. but so far i like it.

two older poems

can't find any new shit i wanna post

Bojangles with thanks to Gregory Hines
Feet of wood
They only see you as uncky to white girl with curls
But you dance faster than fast
So fast you burn fire blacker than the coal substance covering your face
The two tone act that always made them clap
The only saw uncky feet of wood, shoes of tar
"whose the best dancer you’ve ever saw lil bo?"
Gamble the shirt of your back and even the big man warns
Against messing with Bojangles
But ‘whose the best dancer you ever saw lil bo?’
Fred Astire pays homage years later
Respect dimmed by blackface
But no worries
Can’t read
Can’t write
Will die poor
But no worries
Cause everything is copasetic
Co-pa-se-tic
Cause he can dance faster than running
Faster than black face minstrels and uncky roles he played to save America
His life, his talent passed as joke through Hattie McDaniels teeth
Only to be reprinted, revised and remembered through the hard shoes of others




okay this one is new

Lorriane Hansberry

they kept her info out of history books
nice gal
wrote a great play
then died
had they known whose daughter she was
her picture would not hang
big, glossy and black and white
in church
next to the kente cloth

Repression

i keep trying to post a poem but none of them seem good enough. weird.