okay, first post. This is kind of exciting. I will be attending an event the first Friday of next month. There will be more information to follow as soon as I get it. So standby, dear reader. In the meantime, here’s the first spoken word piece up for review. The next post in this thread will be the first steps that I take to revise his rough draft and get ready for future performance. I look forward to your comments!
Pure intention, poorly chosen words
Have shed light on my ignorance and reopened old wounds more vast then the fields that were planted by sharecropper’s hands my tongue now the lash.
Realization strikes at my core robbing me of breath that so recently betrayed me
Keyed from the flash of rage or pain reflected in the eyes of a victim I would call friend
To late in life did I receive a minority education not the kind that is underfunded by the state, but the kind of education not expressed in the curriculum for suburban white boys who can count the number of people of color they know on one hand. The product of white flight.
It starts with sins of the blood. Like verse from the book that speaks about the sins of the father passed down to the son, some sins are so great they transcend the perpetrators and stain the past refusing to be buried and are carried like the mark of Cain into the future.
But know this smiling at dark faces,
To elevate your guilt still singles out race,
Being nice to prove you have overcome the faults of your ancestors does the same,
We perpetuate our crimes through what we see as kindness and seldom let a dark soul just be a soul.
Know this to, you will never know a day in another’s shoes and you should not presume to. There are those who would say I am as guilty today speaking about issues we would rather let lie.
Lord knows my ignorance and stupidity has often come back to haunt me and in these moments some have rightly labeled me cracker
And I say God if Im a cracker, I want to be an animal Cracker.
Oh yes!“Jesus if you can hear me make me a cookie”
You see, cookies only have wet backs if you lick them. Colors mean flavors and nothing more. Parents don’t care if you love the dark ones.
The many sizes and shapes are all sweet and you never have to worry about the macaroons attacking the pecan sandies for their shelf space.
I wonder can you be institutionalized for expressing a desire to be snack food? If that is the greater absurdity then fit me with the white jacket with the fashionable straps and throw away the key. Because I never want to relive the shame that I felt when I learned why you never call a black man boy.
Check back next Thursday to see what I have done with this thing!