E C I O V YOUTH
Y G O L O H T N A Y R T E O P E N I L ON
S T E O P H T U O Y G N I T A R B E L CE !
1
May 25, 2012
! ! ! ! ! MISSION
! TELL YOUR STORY The idea for this anthology developed from a series of conversations about the lack of positive images of youth in the media. What these conversations revealed was that the repeated negative and stereotypical stories that the media portrays, are often always told from a non-youth’s perspective. My mission for this anthology was to provide a space where youth could define their image for themselves, tell their story and most of all let their voices be heard. While the poetry you read isn’t an attempt to represent the many diverse voices of youth, it is instead a different narrative, filling a void in the media where more stories like this should be. !
! !
! ! ~GINA DUKES
2
CONTRIBUTORS
! ! ! BRIANA BAILEY BRIANA STROMAN CHELSEA STARKS GINA DUKES! IBRAHIM RIDLEY IMANI ROTHWELL JALISA !SMITH ! JOSHUA MELENDEZ KABONI BAILEY JAYA MONTAGUE !
3
TABLE OF CONTENTS SIMPLE ...................................................................5 TOYS...................................................................6 HIS EYES...................................................................7 TASTE OF LOVE...................................................................8 RUN HIM OVER...................................................................9 SISTER POEM...................................................................10 TRUTH OF THE UNUSUAL.............................................12 NATURE...................................................................13 OBJECT...................................................................14 WE ARE POETS...................................................................16 IN ESSENCE OF BEING A BEAUTIFUL COLORED BASTARD CHILD..................................................................17 RIFF POEM...................................................................18 ODE TO MUSIC...................................................................19 SEX WITHOUT SEX..........................................................20 MY EPIC.......................................................................21 !
4
Simple ~by Briana Stroman I don't know much. People think that because I got skipped that I'm smart that is not true–not true necessarily I was just put in my "right" place you see I have speech problems It isn't because of my 25% learning disability I can't keep using that excuse from my younger days. I never spoke unless I cried. But crying don't always get me to speak My language is called "simple". The word "vocabulary" bothers me. I'd just be like "how do I say those things" cause "vocab" makes me so sad I feel like a crab but move as slow as a snail because everyone else are rabbits when it comes to knowing words "what did they just say?" skipping a grade didn't mean anything I mean, I feel as though I shouldn't have skipped at all if not I would be an 11th grader at this moment in time doing vocab quizzes every other week but yet don't feel accomplished. I would probably call that 2nd grade year luck because 4th grade I felt dumb again. and at this very second as a senior in high school I still don't feel very smart I've been speaking the language of "success" when I'm in school the language of "impression" around my family the language of a "porno star" when I am with him and the language of "suicide" to my destiny that screams death. that always fails though but what is the language I was born with? simple and complicated to figure out random and indirect because I am scared. all my life I have been scared to come out of the hole. It seems as though I put myself in jail on purpose to see if someone would rescue me. but I don't want anyone to rescue me because I would never learn on my own. I wish to learn more where I can use bigger words because the language I speak gives me stupidity gas. I step away so others won't smell failure ! & everyone knows that stinks instead of using the air freshener of success to brighten up everyone's day again, I leave–with the language I always spoke, called "simple".
5
Toys~by Briana Bailey We, treat ourselves like Sex toys Play toys, them I want more toys we want to be like kid toys Fun toys, them I want to hold toys Connected by strings females become puppets Pull the right side, oops up goes our legs the left we wont shake our heads You’ll like that right? then we’re no longer puppets Shifting into Raggedy Ann’s Red hair for the blood we lose Miscarriages abortions Smile lines that are permanent so everyone believes we are happy Depression covered with satisfaction turned into obsession with boys Thinking we are one like Smurfette In reality we are one of three Skin of that barely known man brings us to salvation We’ve picked up that performance A dance that symbolized us Circe Sex goddesses to kings is what we are Kings whom get flowers for creating a love nest We are daughters Lost doves soaring the earth Flying through the streets covered with souls, pride, dignity and untold stories We all carry fairy tales Everyone wants that happy ending Well ladies wake up If we continue to be puppets our noses will grow !
6
His eyes~by Briana Bailey Getting lost into your eyes I wonder how they view the world I want to know how you imagine the universe
Midnight black, yet very white? Do you see the world in darkness and light? Wait … I know your eyes are brown yet very white like the inside of a bitten kiss surrounded by the fluff of a marsh mellow I wonder how God could create such perfection I want to know how such beautiful eyes can be your beauty
Getting lost into your eyes I imagine kissing your lips being able to stare into those eyes As my lips slowly come closer to yours 1,2,3 they touch we look into each other’s eyes I wonder how you see me I want to know your thoughts
Counting each and every eye lash 25 in counting, 50 in counting, 100 in counting I stare from a distance at your eyes long full lush paintbrushes curve from your eye lids then butterflies began to flutter in my stomach It’s like that twilight effect Getting lost into your eyes Once I look at them I cant stop I get sucked up into them
Getting lost into your eyes I wonder how they view the world I want to know how you imagine the universe !
7
Taste of Love~by Briana Bailey Death screams so softly I can almost hear it calling my name Silence shattering scarcely throughout my mentality I’m scared of love Feeling silver blades cutting through my paper thin heart Petrified of becoming your papermache Cutting pieces to construct a mask Being an envelope to your heart No matter how damaged I get you’ll be the one always safe you keep your heart inside of me then take it out of my keeping crush me up into a ball then throw me away I will then be forgotten Feeling my taste buds flutter ready for treats only sad times I eat I can taste the heartbreak Flavored frozen treats Consisting of strawberry ice cream as cold as your heart chocolate blood I mean syrup so thick you forget it’s supposed to keep your heart beating I can taste the cherry on top The most tasteful thing yet so hard to swallow It reminded me of that night I let you enjoy my indulgence while i was loving yours It gave me the same sickening but mouth watering taste as when busted red juices dispersed from my feminine lips I’ve never heard something so quiet that seemed so loud But then I heard of something called heart fracture it only happens when you put all your trust into someone who is now nothing you’ve loved until your heart slowly broke off from every argument one fraction at a time it will disappear and leave you with an empty song of the human being no longer will you have your own melody fractured until a new composer composes your new beat I heard of something called heart fracture, it may take a while to fix Death screams so softly I can almost hear it calling my name loud yells playing tenderly in my eardrums ! I’m scared to love
8
Run him over~by Kaboni Bailey "Run him over . . ." "Run him over I wont tell nobody" That is what you say about the man holding up the bus. You say that simply because you wont get to your casino fast enough. You have no idea of the beatings he endured, the racial sores of the poor that is him has poured out in an out lash of realization of his life. You do not know of his son his son that died, that led to a suicide that left him childless. You have no sense of his beautiful wife, whose life had a plight, but never took flight due to her death that came too soon. Her eyes were like the starry moon and her blood was starry in the moon. "Run him over, i wont tell nobody" That is what you exclaim But you cant explain his pain of living through the depression on a moving train not knowing when his next meal would frame almost drove him insane. In his eyes, the surrogate for the bright sun, was his dead brothers son, whom would later run into rum, a surrogate for the surrogate of a father that was he. "Run him over, I wont tell nobody.' You would cry if you found out his parents were murdered in his home, killed by the chrome, two shots to the dome, to him this had shown, that he would always be alone. You don’t know that when he was born he was scorned with schizophrenia. You haven't a clue, as to what he's been through. But all you can say is, "Run him over, I wont tell nobody."
!
9
Sister Poem~by Joshua Melendez This is for the girls who can’t be broken Who walk through catcalls and corny pick up lines And Who remind me of My little sister 6 things I want to tell them 1. If any dude ever try’s to play you in a game of bloody knuckles giving you black and blues scars that slither across your back because they don’t like you for you let me know and I’ll take them to a bar, buy them shots till they get drunk off my fists I mean I will give them a taste That will fracture ribs, bruise skulls And will have teeth tumbling down their throats and a hangover they will never forget 2. When ever you see a shooting star close your eyes, clutch your hands together then make a wish and I’ll pull strings like a puppet master to get it for you 3. Tell the moon secrets on how your man should be give descriptive details so she can sculpt every thing you want in a man and trust me sooner or later that sun will set and he will blossom like a flower and together you will bloom into a horizon that will linger over seas and will spread across mountainsides for every one to see ! your love will be unforgettable
10
4. When you no longer need me to hold your hand when crossing the street and you think of yourself as a big girl now I’ll still be there right behind you with arms opened wide To catch you When life decides to throw you around just for fun to tell you “Everything is going to be alright” 5. I grew up where dreams are shattered by pop condoms and teens grow up before they even mastered the word responsibility where hearts get crumbled and thrown away reused like recycling So I stored mines in a jar placed it under my bed safe and sound where it can no longer get hurt So I’m sorry that you can never see how I real feel 6. I know your ears have been craving for three words to skip off my lips I’ll say them smoothly and slow so you can enjoy them just like my mother did when I first said them “I love you”
!
11
Truth of the unusual~by Ibrahim Ridley Wanna know what's weird? Music when you think about it and break it down. It's simply coordinated sounds and rhythms the appeal to our brain. Sorry just had a nerd moment. I find it weird that I have apologize for being intelligent Because its easier to make friends if your dumb. Another thing that’s weird is when the one person in the movie theatre buys the loudest snack but decides to open it as slow as he possibly can releasing every single noise from every crinkle the bag contains. Trying to be quiet and stealthy but each crinkle is like a mine that explodes with sound. It's weird how certain touches make you forget. Like the touch of two lips when put together just right can make the heartless, heartfelt. But if you think about it humans are separated by a thin layer of ions so are we actually touching with our mind? So how we touch and what we touch all stems from our inner being far deeper then anything we can fathom. Shit gets real! It's weird how you can kill the serious mood of almost anything by saying, "Shit gets real! What else is weird is this poem has no point. I could tell you what's weird for days, weeks upon end. Society hands you derogatory terms that you in turn hurl at the weird, hoping they are wounded. You take these wounds and open them further just to check them all to familiar insides. Sad thing is, if you open that wound deep enough you find a mirror. But the reflection isn’t what you want to find So as you carefully pet that bloody reflection, you only deem your specimen a waste of time. !
12
Nature~by Gina Dukes Gold petals of flower leaves rain down on me cover me in your rainbow the color of sweet sunshine speckled tacky city streets aligned with rows of ruby crystals, yellow diamonds and green dreams how glorious to see the great trees shed their mystique and paint the city different shades of beauty elongated Oaks, london planes, Maples standing over the hood ancestor spirits watching descendants who forgot how to listen to the secrets trees tell the wisdom held in hundred year old branches the very image of life I am blessed to connect with Nature the neglected  mother of all I desire to kiss her brown cheeks from which green smiles bring forth trees of wonder that stretch  to the sky and release falling angels to remind the city people that heaven is within reach if only they try
!
13
Object~by Gina Dukes Ass Ass Ass Ass Ass Ass Ass Ass Ass The boom-clapping beat pulses through Maya’s body its heavy bass creates a hypnotic harmony of Hip hop that makes her hips rock causing the entire room to pause in motion to watch her dance but what she doesn’t realize is that the music is slowly mesmerizing her into a trance with her brown hands in the air and eyes closed as her hips continuously grind she is steadily losing her worth and losing her mind because the music has transformed her into nothing but curves and flesh
!
Her date doesn’t see the girl after ambitions and big dreams just a round behind vibrating for his pleasure in some apple bottom jeans because the rapper’s lyrics have belittled her into a little piece of candy for his eyes to later be devoured by a guy who’s been hypnotized into a mindless drone that only knows how to value a woman based on what her body can offer and not for the beautiful things that make up her soul but who can blame him this obsession with ass has gotten out of control nearly every song on the radio has been seducing ears into this illusion that the bigger the ass and how much of it she shows determines the appreciation a woman should be shown we went from just liking big butts to worshipping them now don’t get me wrong I think that a woman’s body is beautiful but when it becomes the only thing she’s valued for then its the dangerous game of objectification where we play who can split a body into nominal pieces place them on a pedestal to paint a picture of worth leading women and young girls to pray for a smaller waist, bigger breasts and whatever else they claim is the best
14
We’ve become so blinded by this illusion that we forget our inner beauty or the fact that no standards images from the media or rap song can define who it is we should be yet until we realize this ultimately a big ass is all Maya will be because when the dance is over and the music stops her date wont remember the conversation they had the way her eyes twinkled when she laughed the sound of her voice or even her name all he’ll think about is that Ass Ass Ass Ass Ass Ass Ass Ass Ass
!
15
We are poets~by Gina Dukes We dress up our words and put diamonds on the edge of sentences not periods we ease, easily erasing lyrical boundaries ruthlessly running and ripping with our tongues that speak quick slick talk through lips that aint afraid to preach the truth with words so vividly vivid, imagery creating mosaics clear enough for the blind to see our words laced in fire grab souls mind control I can knock your feet off the ground with words so mighty as I uplift you lightly elevating your mind feeding your spirit taking you higher and higher See I aint the average kind I aim to inspire and aspire to be the best as I invoke change and rearrange the English diction speaking stanzas splendidly to put a single tingle in your spine I come from greatness honoring that which is divine I bring you peace with words that rain down and thunder full of wonder I sow the seed of poetry to express the hidden me and give voice to my sisters all over who lack equality so open up your third eye and try to listen to this wisdom feel it in your system we are poets this is what we’re into !
16
In essence of being a beautiful colored bastard child~by Jaya Montague Wrapped in the stereotypes of my people like cannabis in a blunt, I wish that I would never have been born in this skin. I wanted blue and green eyes, blonde, brunette, and red-headed hair. But these colors would only be overshadowed by my burnt ginger-colored complexion. I touched my hair and looked at my skin, then asked mama, “Why my hair dirty and why my skin not clear like ‘dem white girls,’ All she said was, “I don’t know.” I asked my grandmamma the same question; she gave me a different answer: She said that my hair was kinky because I was a dandelion and dandelions have frizzy hair. My skin was darker because I wouldn’t have to see the colors of my veins when I got older. Then I asked her another question, “Why did my daddy leave?” She paused and her face became angry. Then I heard a knock at the door, There was a man in a green beanie, corduroy gray pants, an oversized purple coat with feathers coming out, and worn out converse sneakers. It was my grandfather. “Charles, what you want?” “Millicent, you know what I want!” “Hush your voice now, Tracy’s here.” “You done kept my granddaughter from me for too long, woman!” “You don’t deserve to see your granddaughter.” I stood still in the doorway. Maybe my position was made there for a reason. I was supposed to keep sanity between the two forces. I opened my mouth to speak but my grandfather came closer into the sunlight, He was a monster, who just walked from the edges of the ghetto. He had open sores on his face and neck that were surrounded by white lines. And when he tried to hug me, I pulled away from him. I saw them on his hands and ran straight into grandmamma’s arms. “Charles, ‘git now!” “You can’t keep her from me forever, Millie, remember that.” My grandmamma let me go and slammed the door in his face. Bang-bang! She came back over to me and I smelt the scent of my grandfather. A burnt, stale, !and dry smell. “Baby, to answer your question…” “Black men are ignorant and don’t give a damn about anyone but themselves.”
17
Ri Poem by Jalisa Smith
Life is hard to understand. Isn't it? Can you fathom what living truly is, This day and age? Living, to some is a hard thing to do. To find your loved ones hanging from your roof. A note on the bed, where you last made love. With blood dripping from a head above? Life is hard to understand, isn't it? Living, to many is complicated, you see, marks of a beast scattered all over her arms each one, representing the resentment of life. Tear stains where her fore-fathers should have kissed her with a blessing streaming down her face. Confusion, leading to her chin delusions of herself being herself, which was herself she should be. Life is hard to understand, isn't it? Life is hard to compress into a box of happiness when life has its ending leading to a faithful beginning when the health of your heart dies away and your loved ones can't even say a thing to sway the cradle of happiness which once. held you. But look at you with unfaithful eyes and hope that God gives you a surprise of a new and healthy life. ....it’s hard to understand.
!
Living is hard to do. When all who stand beside you, won't. Living is complicated when some one is "comin''' at ya neck", and you don't know what to say. but We do what it takes to shake the snake that coils around our humble lives.
18
Ode to Music by Imani Rothwe# Swag Swag Swag Swag This beat causes Teens cheeks to do splits As the beat beats in the Head having their necks bob to the ridiculous sound they consider a compliment But Incompetent To realize Originality is Self confidence Music Is a blessin''’ but a sin It can save lives or kill em But lately Music Seems to suffocate Kids imagination Forcing them to live a reality That’s not worth living Setting kids up for failure Teaching them to TRAP their dreams With some weed Why dream if you won’t be able to reach them Just get high with em Tragic How music went from meaning To meaningless How artists use to preach about their freedom Now artists talk about their whips and chains Making us a slave to the ignorance I guess we have freedom Cause we free and dumb Music A beat that causes Teens cheeks to do splits having their necks bob to the ridiculous sound They Consider Music !
19
Sex Without Sex
Sex without Sex by Chelsea Starks
Let us indulge in the lack of indulgence break utterance to intellectual intelligence allow your imagination to formulate emotions in which are reciprocated in the sense of this cerebral context While I undress your insecurities Securely you put on your helmet for safety precautions Using caution giving you a taste of four play four ways spinning your cerebellum on its stem coercing you ears to open and your body in its clothes
Motivate me like Kelly Rowland
Creatively you keep my juices flowing
Suck my cockiness,
lick my persuasion
You and I intertwined in the utmost of conversation
Naked truths being told
we bear our souls in lieu of our daily facades
Show me yours and I'll show you mine Eat my words and I'll swallow your pride Stroking my character traveling the in depths of my consciousness You caress my secrets and I massage your needs to supersede all inspiration taking you to the climactic point of your brain's dictation
Step onto my battlefield and get your mind blown
Land mines, hand guns, and grenades
We dodge bullets as if this is the Matrix
& our psyche is playing tricks on us.
Slip into a state of subconsciousness waist deep in this pivotal abyss ! we once deemed, inadequate.
20
My Epic by Chelsea Starks Before I start I just wanna say that I don't expect you to help me, My only expectation of you is that you sit and listen. I'm not perfect and I know you've heard it I'm only human but I try to be so much more Super Saiyan and Superwoman with eyes that hide so many of the scars of her soul She tries to control her urge to hurt herself yet again Ringing back in her ear is that little voice in her head Telling her that she is worthless Keeps me thinking, Thinking if I could only find this girl This girl who to the outside world had armor impenetrable, invulnerably invincible To the outside world, she was a Superwoman But little did they know her skin was paper thin, her armor had cracks and crumbling pieces She was a forgotten puzzle in this maze of humanity She made it her job for them not to see Sacrificed her mind and sanity Tried her damnedest to hide it all behind a lie and a smile "I'm okay," she says But really she is dying inside Killing bits, of herself not realizing she's killing herself slowly But I keep her inside hidden away But the sad truth of it Is that she is the one I see in my eyes in the mirror I realize some of the hurtful things my parents have said to me hold some truth in their words I can't do anything without them I can't support myself I'm not yet equipped with the knowledge to be an actual grown person and do what I need to do to survive I'm not as independent as I tell myself I am I'm dependent upon the people who raised me still ! and emotionally dependent upon others
21
I'm pathetic
I always try to please others and make others happy because i feel in myself that I am inadequate of making myself happy I don't love myself so how is it that I can love another and make others happy when I myself am drowning in my own mind's misery I don't know this person I know nothing of the girl with a smile so bright it makes the Sun jealous with a heart so big Cupid falls in love wit her and with a mind so focused she reaches her goals effortlessly I'm only a shell of she I am only her insecure, cowardly, crybaby, intelligently bankrupt counterpart I am her shadow I have no real name for myself only what everyone sees is what I am called you see I don't know myself at all who is this person I have no idea I'm lost, I've been lost 18 fucking years! and have yet to find this inner me I only know the glass mask I've sculpted for all to see I don't know myself I don't know who is "she" She is the example of the broken black girl Confused about her sexuality, her personality, unsure of what's really her and her personification Personified life has it's way of raping you, Taking away your innocence And making you it's bitch. At 5'5" brown eyes and golden brown skin I turn to my family My PYPM family, And try to find myself My voice within... Sometimes I wonder, When will I ever if I ever when will I find me? Before I go ! I just wanna say that I don't expect you to help me, My only expectation of you is that you sit and listen.
22
! U O Y K N A H ! ! T Thanks to all of the poets who’ve made contributions to this anthology and a special shout out to my mentor Matthew Kay who has helped made this possible. I appreciate you taking the time to read this anthology and hopefully you’ve learned something new and ultimately walk away with a different perspective on youth. ! !
!
! ! ~GINA DUKES
23
E C I O V YOUTH
Y G O L O H T N A Y R T E O P E N I L ON
S T E O P H T U O Y G N I T A R B E L CE !
24