eating the other

im here, trapped
down
in the
belly of the white beast-
like jonah, but with no reason to repent.
how'd i end up down here?

i never gave you permission to consume me whole
taking my soul and wrapping it around a pale finger
like a spaghetti strand
i was minding my own business, doing my thing
and before i know it yr sopping me up with sauce and
now... im stuck.

im not giving up without a fight
still kicking around, screaming yelling
but you swallowed me in one gulp
opened yr mouth wide and let me slide down yr throat
while i tried to claw my way out

im not worried, and im not scared either-
ive got some of the greats to keep me comapny

ella, bessie, luis and langston
to name a few
other jazz heads and poets and artists
dancers and dreamers, too.

hoping to blow our way out,
gurgling notes from our very bowels
tryna fly out on high sweet tones or
dance on dissonant chords
come out with heads held high-

ready to reclaim our thrones as
reigning monarchs of birdland.

i can't get hamlet out of my head

"what do the voices sound like?"

we could tell she was gone the second she walked into the classroom. mentally not there. something about the irregularity of her stride, and the way her eyes were so intently focused on her feet. like she was counting her steps. she sat down, introduced herself, and told us she was schizophrenic.

"any questions?"

no one spoke, of course. we all just... sat there.

she looked at each and every one of us, pierced us with her blue eyes and crooked smile. "boo."

we all laughed nervously, and she went straight into the story of when she was diagnosed. told us that she was popular in college, very social. except one day that all stopped and she started locking herself in her room. ignoring people's knocks and phone calls. it got harder to get out of bed each day. no particular reason... "just because... i didn't want to face anyone. or anything. i started blowing off classes. friends. and then... the voices came."

men and women. mostly men. deep, scary voices, telling her negative things. like she was ugly and useless. driving her crazy.

i raised my hand and asked in my timid voice. out of curiosity.

"...but are they always mean? are there any nice voices?"

she looked at me like i was insane.

"what do you think?"

my presidential candidate!

http://www.tsgnet.com/pres.php?id=370743&altf=KE&altl=Tuplfmz

word.

oh no he didnt???

damn.

i feel sad and hurt and confused and disappointed and mad. mostly mad though.

im grateful for wonderful ppl in my life (see below) and also for yogurt covered pretzels. and old xangas/livejournals/diaries that keep me laughing. and good reggae- the stuff that isnt offensive.

and erykah badu.

and james baldwin.... oh!
look at this great quote:

"Artists are here to disturb the peace."
- James Baldwin

YES.