Thursday, September 29, 2011

why i don't do spoken word

i wrote this sunday and performed it at an open mic last night.  it was my first time ever doing spoken word in public.  and i positively loved it (so much so that i did 2 more pieces at the end of the night; maybe that was rude, but i couldn't help it...the audience didn't seem to care haha).  i don't have video of my performance, but i'll probably redo this eventually and post it to youtube.  for now, enjoy reading it! ^__^

they tell me i should give these words a voice
let other people hear them instead of just reading
and i ache for my amorphous vocabulary to have a significant existence
one that runs beyond Microsoft Word, blog posts, and notes on my cell phone

but i'll be the first to admit
i'm afraid to share any of my thoughts out loud

it's funny, because i have dreamed of open mics and coffee houses ever since i received my poetic license
have always wanted to hear the random ish i think carried through the air and to your ears
have had countless chances to make these daydreams realities
but when i look out my front window and find opportunity standing on my stoop
i feel that limelight lust rise in me
that simultaneous taste of bliss and bile
and i swallow it back down
deadbolt the door and think
not now,
some other night,
maybe next time i'll be ready

see, i've never taken well to real time criticism
after i open my mouth and start to speak
i don't know if you'll love me or laugh me out of the building
and i can't just delete the opinions of a tangible audience like they let me do in cyberspace
even if the crowd promises to leave its rotten tomatoes at home
i'll still find myself rehearsing worst case scenarios as if they're anything more than hypothetical situations
i'll still be scared of stuttering, stumbling over my words, talking too fast or too softly to be heard
getting a mean case of stage fright, forgetting my favorite line, tripping over the mic, falling flat on my face
making a fool of myself and a mockery of good poets everywhere

yes, i'm terrified
but today i got up and decided that it was finally time to put a voice to my blatant abuse of alliteration on paper
time to open the door and embrace opportunity
time to come out of hiding, say something crazy, screw better
and if i get to the end of this poem without stopping
i plan to snap for myself until my fingers hurt
regardless of how you decide to receive me


Wednesday, September 21, 2011

on 11:08 pm, EDT

i wasn't following the case until Tuesday, but the moment i heard that Troy Davis had been executed, i felt like crying.  the feeling quickly faded and was replaced by a strange hollowness.

every fiber of my being is in mourning, as if i knew Mr. Davis personally, had talked to him face to face instead of reading about his statements and his status on the various news sites and social networks that i have pulled up on Google Chrome.

and now, about an hour after his death--some people would say homicide--i'm still on facebook and twitter, my homework completely forgotten.  i'm reading the reactions of friends and the people i follow, sometimes commenting, sometimes just staring at the words they've chosen to use in an effort to express the inexpressible.

i feel connected to these people, even as that metaphorical moral fiber that holds everything together seems to unravel with time.


Saturday, September 10, 2011

Eni, party of one

(Now Playing: "Ridin' Solo" -- Jason Derulo)

i've been saying for years now that i'm "ok with being single."  honestly, i don't think i believed my own words, and i'm not sure anyone around me did either.

last night, while dancing, laughing, and having fun with 4 good friends at an off-campus party, i began to realize--to actually admit to myself--that i don't need to waste energy thinking about romantic relationships.  if it's God's will, there will be a place for one in my life one day.  but it's not necessary for me to look for possibilities in every encounter, to play fantasies over and over in my mind like reruns on prime-time tv.  it's time for me to turn my focus inward, to work on becoming a Proverbs 31 woman, to live life, dance hard, sing loud, and regret nothing when the music stops.

because for the first time, riding solo feels right.

Friday, September 9, 2011

happy friday ^___^

there was no one else in the laundry room.  so i put on my "good morning" playlist and began to sing along.  and i didn't just kind of mouth the words, afraid that someone might come in and give me a weird look.  i sang loudly, with no regrets, like i was the only person in the world and nothing else mattered.

it was a great way to start off the morning.

Monday, September 5, 2011

third person

sweat and sexual tension played
wicked games inside my cranium

and i thought to myself

why analyze a short story
spun around six packs and shot glasses

let the plot run its course
then forget it ever happened

indifference is the best possible action

never mind that my hearts a bit too open
to put anything but feeling first

randomly exchanging sweat and saliva
sharing a series of kisses in the dark
it felt more like balancing my checkbook
adding such and such to a list of past transactions

i expected my nerves to scream themselves awake
the heat should have been too intense for them to sleep
but they didnt so much as move
like the whole time they knew i was only dreaming

maybe they were on to something

these memories dont feel like mine

Sunday, September 4, 2011


less than a month ago i wished that i had the ability to let my guard down completely, to say what i mean and regret nothing.  i celebrated transparency as therapy, using images of armor and keys and nakedness to bring my point across.  

right now...i have so much to say, but i'm afraid of putting my thoughts out in the open.  i want to hide my words from the world, protect them from unfamiliar eyes.  i'm not sure what happened to the girl who wanted a moment or two of vulnerability.