Every other Sunday, stop in for a new poem from a member of the "Starving Artist Project", a talented group on spoken word artists, some of whom compete on a national level.
If you like THIS, check out the past features -----> look to the right and click on "Poetry Corner"!
This week, my own Not-So-Bebe Girl gets a shot at the spotlight with "(color) tv's"..
(color) tv's
by Autumn Aki Smith
The lights are on
the camera's set
my reality's on broadcast
the screens all blare the imagery
of my flaws
i protest
i cover my eyes
with caution signs
that dissolve away
with acidic
banter
and yet..i stay
the object of their
headline
blasting out
in disgust
labeling me
killer
I never laid a finger on her.
but they cant see past
the color
tv
that influences their verdict
she stands like a saint
with honey blond curls
and black/lies
rolling away from her
made up/eyes
they crowd around
and silence falls
all she did was point a finger
and hiccup
"its he who done it"
He who stood at her doorstep
every night
at her call.
He whose smile
she would return shyly
as he pressed his palm to hers.
He who saw her
press the gun to a head
to blow away
the defamation.
Can't be queen
with a black man at your side.
The same black man
who rocked her to sleep in his arms
breathing in that scent of
that blonde southern beauty
his forbidden fruit.
He awoke the next morning
to police wails
and a belle's screams
shouting
"murderer"
betrayal then buried her,
lower than dirt to him.
outraged cried
and
blood red eyes
but the back it never seen
on this bus
i stand silently
as handcuffs slide
like water over my skin
eyes still straight
til she looks away
unable to face her outcome
the judge stares down
i walk to her doorstep
but she wont let me in
"are there any last words"
I turn to my people
who yell and scream
"Justice!"
I smile a bit
and raise my arms
"We'll have ours
on clouds of snow
and a golden gate to greet us
and love will fairly
embrace
our worn fingers
from years of picking textiles
love will openly
face us
who felt nylon necklaces
and stainless steel
CAT scans
and we will stand
like kings
next to those
(murdered)
by these
(color)
tvs.
and we will stand free"
Blackness
I suck in the thick
cotton
cloth
i labored hot days
to create
my death sentence
they yell "murderer!"
and point fingers saying
"We should have known...
the nigger"
I smile under
cotton feeling a little too much like silk
Knowing I will have mine
where the lines behind
black and white
divide
This is not my crime
but i take it
for the years of sinners
unpunished
i serve your sentence
to rid the grief of my sisters
who lost their purity
to your "games"
to rid the grief of my brothers
click
lock
gone like they never existed
and while we screamed
for your law and order
you whimpered that
it wasn't your problem
I take the years of our pain
and suffer
for the cause
Because I am only one man
but my life
will cause static
with this broadcast
the first flaw
in your televised
(civil) Justice
I stand
Handcuffed to your demands
covered with a cloth meant to show
how you see me
black as night
thin as water
but my presence is known here
and it will grow
out the BLACK box in every living room
out the BLACK speakers in every restaurant
out of BLACK ink spread across your (white) newspaper
for a country who thinks so little of us
you seem to use our (color) a lot.
I take a step
and each step resounds
in the silence of the hall
step
clap
step
clap
step
clap
we shall overcome
some day.
All work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 3.0 License.
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