WRITINGS FROM THE
AIDS SERVICE CENTER NYC
CREATIVE WRITING WORKSHOP
SITUATIONS
SPRING/SUMMER 07
SITUATIONS 10 AIDS Service Center NYC Spring/Summer 2007
Situations is a literary magazine containing the writings of participants in the Creative Writing Workshop at AIDS Service Center NYC. The ASC Creative Writing Workshop promotes medication adherence, stress reduction, sustained recovery from substance abuse, and healthy behaviors by offering a forum for self-awareness, social engagement, empowerment, and selfexpression among persons living with and affected by HIV/AIDS. Copyright © 2007 by AIDS Service Center NYC, 41 East 11th Street, New York City, N.Y. 10003. All rights revert to the authors upon publication.
The ASC Creative Writing Workshop is funded by a grant from the Ryan White C.A.R.E. Act, Title I, HIV CARE Services, a project of the Medical and Health Research Association of New York City; and a grant from the Phil Zwickler Charitable and Memorial Foundation. The printing of Situations was made possible by the generous support of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Housing Opportunities for People With AIDS, and the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration. ASC extends its thanks to each of these funding sources for demonstrating the vision and commitment to support creative programming for people living with and affected by HIV/AIDS. Founded in 1990, ASC is a multiservice community organization delivering state-of-the-art peer education and training; HIV counseling and testing; specialized women’s services; onsite mental health, medical and holistic care; case management; support groups; and many other innovative programs that help New York City’s most vulnerable individuals and families to survive and thrive in the face of HIV/AIDS. ASC’s motto, “Helping many, one by one,” embodies our mission of building community, connection and stability for the thousands of New Yorkers we serve. ASC services are available in English, Spanish, French, and Haitian Creole. All ASC services are confidential. Workshop Leader & Situations Editor/Photographer: Gerry Gomez Pearlberg Publication Design: Joseph Cavalieri Printer: RR Donnelley/Long Prairie ASC Program Liaison: Ramona Cummings Workshop Support Team: Iris Elizabeth Sankey, Shurland H. Aird, Ruth Bryant, Chardelle Imani Lassiter, monté, and Rufino Colón.
CONTENTS
Introduction page 5
Poems by L. Murphy 6
Poem by Wamiq Poems by ‘Ali Abdus Sabur 9 Luther Jarman 10
Poems by Iris Elizabeth Sankey 14
Poems by Carlos Lopez 17
Poems by Shurland H. Aird 18
Poems by Robert E. Lee 21
Poem by Tracy Collins 22
Poems by Chardelle Imani Lassiter 23
Poems by monté 27
Poems by Spyhrit 29
Poems by Larry G. 31
Poems by Rufino Colón 33
Poems by D.C. 35
Poems by Ruth Bryant 37
Poems by Theresa Ilardi 40
Poems by Poems by John A. Cooper 41 Lorraine Zier 42
Poems by Ashley Johnson 43
Poems by M.A. Gustine 44
Poems by Edwin 45
Poem by Anthony Ellis 47
Poem by Bruce Jr. (a.k.a. Priest) 46
Poems by Beng L. Kam 39
SITUATIONS 3
INTRODUCTION My pen and I poised In sweet writing therapy Early in the morn.
—IRIS ELIZABETH SANKEY, ASC POETRY LEADER
A longtime member of ASC’s Creative Writing Workshop celebrates the creation of her 600th haiku—a form of Japanese verse she learned about in our class two years ago. A newer workshop member hands in a 100-page handwritten memoir on what living with HIV has taught him about compassion and inner strength. A first-timer puts pen to paper to create her very first poem and marvels after reading it aloud to the group. “In a poem, I can say things I’ve never told anyone before,” she says, “Poetry is liberating!” Poetry is liberating. It is also—as the haiku above suggests—a most healing form of therapy. Now in its seventh year, ASC’s Creative Writing Workshop is living proof that creative outlets for people living with, at risk for, and affected by HIV/AIDS support the emotional wellbeing and empowerment that go hand in hand with long-term risk reduction, health promotion, and recovery. In this, our tenth issue of Situations, you’ll see how ASC’s poets use creative truth-telling and piercing insight as vehicles for personal transformation. May the words of these gifted and courageous poets inspire and delight you.
Gerry Gomez Pearlberg Workshop Leader P.S. ASC continues to feature its talented poets on its website. Visit www.ascnyc.org to read poems and interviews with our poets, and to learn more about the Creative Writing Workshop and AIDS Service Center NYC as a whole.
SITUATIONS 5
20 DAYS + OK, I got 20 days plus clean from the toxic chemicals I’d sniffed in my nose or smoked in a glass pipe knowing that it was wrong. I knew it was wrong but I wanted to be somewhere else at that moment in time. What was I going through at that time? Who knows? Who cares? That was then, this is now. I’ve moved on. 20 days plus clean from the different liquids of alcohol. Didn’t care what brand it was, it just had to be wet and strong at that time in life of partying— I was invincible, stronger, faster than when I was sober. Then the attitude came—I was meaner, disrespectful to whoever was in my presence, slurring words, making no sense at all. I was a silly mess, but that was then, this is now. I’ve moved on.
20 days plus clean but am I really clean-minded? Really, no I am not. I’m scared as hell. ’Cause I’m afraid of back-stepping into what I was back then— an active addict. Physically, I’m fine. Mentally, my mind is crying out for help. It’s going to take some time, but I’m willing to take the risk. So therefore, I’m trying to move on. And when I get there, you see, who knows? Who cares?
L. Murphy
A VIRGIN NO MORE AT THE AGE OF NINE A cool summer day, the wind blowing calmly. Birds being birds, enjoying the moment. New kid on the block— didn’t know anybody, kept to myself. Everyone in their own clique. I didn’t fit in. But then I met a friend— a girl, who I thought was a boy— did everything like one: played sports, climbed trees, kicked ass if need be. That wasn’t me. I was still trying to find myself. Then someone yelled out, “Let’s play cowboys and Indians.” No response. See, I loved cowboys and Indians. I loved classic movies, Westerns, you know, John Wayne Clint Eastwood— the best. And no one wanted to play. So I said, “I’ll play!” Everyone looked at me as if I was crazy. But six neighborhood guys didn’t think so. “Let’s play,” one responded. So we all went behind a building surrounded by trees as tall as 4-story buildings— secluded, private.
“What to do?” I said. “Well,” one of them said, “We are the Indians.” I said, “What am I?” Another one said, “You are the cowgirl.” Before I knew it, I was bent over a tree trunk tied up, mouth gagged, pants down to my knees scared of what might happen next. Pain from the rear. Each had a turn making their way with me, a little boy at the age of nine. Their ages ranging from 14 to 18. Tears falling. Yelling. But no one hears my cry. 45 minutes to an hour, back and forth. Finally the pain, torture, assault had stopped. I was left there in agony, bleeding, wet from sweat and urine on me. What did I do to deserve this? Was I being punished by God for being this way— meaning gay? At first I wanted to fit in with the crowd, not have a crowd of guys raping me for pleasure. But now I’m grown, feeling no hatred toward those who raped me— they have to live with that. I’ve moved on with the help of counseling. I still have dreams of the past. But it’s the past. That’s it. You live and learn. And I’ve learned.
L. Murphy
SITUATIONS 7
THE BEGINNING, THE END TO A BEGINNING Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here to give praise to this day. Let us remember those who are gone but not forgotten. When you leave this here place remember him, remember her, remember my face. Let’s pause for a moment. 10 seconds of silence for a loved one, a friend we miss very much, not forgetting them at all. Some short, some tall, some light, some dark—who cares what color? We all share something together, the same blood color, you see, so don’t weep for them, they are in no more pain. But rejoice and yell out their name.... everyone together.
L. Murphy
DO SOLDIERS REALLY PASS ON, OR ARE THEY EVERLASTING? I guess one might say there are many who fell, yet there are many survivors still in the pursuit of happiness. Loneliness has kept his ragged head at the front door of all our lives, those who continue try to evade this feeling and become anew. There are those who we miss, those who we are welcomed to meet, and those who by chance in this lifetime we are able to greet. All that is needed is understanding, that as the World evolves, so do we, as individuals, as families, friends, lovers and companions. The difference is a cancer that riddles the mind, body and soul, yet for now some of us have it under control. We look no different than any of you, nor are our complexions faded, cracked, misguided, or uncared for in this lifetime. And this day, as we give remembrance to so many that are not with us, we also celebrate their cherished lives for the road that they laid before us. Life is short and precious, not only for the normal, yet for those who suffer from day-to-day with untold feelings that change their lives. So on this day, can we celebrate the blessing of life, for truthfully we are all born to die—just when that time arrives, only the Most High knows. Twenty-five years and the fight for life continues, the dark shroud that envelopes so many lives, young and old, still fighting to survive. How do I know, you ask. I have seen Soldiers come and go. I too am a Soldier—fifteen years standing, and still fighting for all. For if Soldiers do pass on, they are truly everlasting, because their spirit flows through us always, never forgotten, never lost, eternal to the soul.
Wamiq ‘Ali Abdus Sabur
SITUATIONS 9
9-11 POEM: WE CAN MASTER DISASTER 9-11 and the Gulf Coast. Who has suffered the most? My reply is: We can master disaster! We can master disaster! We can master disaster! Don’t let disaster be your master! We buried our dead; it’s time to move ahead. We have to be strong and move on. Land of the free, home of the brave. It’s time to stop crying at the grave. We buried our dead; it’s time to move ahead. We have to be strong and carry on. We can master disaster! We can master disaster! We can master disaster! Don’t let disaster be your master!
Luther Jarman
THE FALL OF ICARUS The sun is bright when Icarus takes flight. Flying from cloud to cloud Icarus is proud. He soars and sings on fragile wings. He’s lord of the air, but when he falls, no one cares. Business as usual as Icarus falls. The world is too busy to hear Icarus’ calls. Icarus—a mere splash in the sea. I wonder, could this happen to me?
Luther Jarman
TWO KINDS OF POETS Two poets! One writes from the head, the other from the heart. Each poet is doing his part. One shows off his education, the other is poet to the nations. One uses ten-dollar words people don’t understand. The other writes to the common man. One writes to people proud of their learning, the other writes to what the soul is yearning. Two poets! One writes from the head. The other from the heart. Each poet is doing his part.
Luther Jarman
POETRY IS A HIDING PLACE Poetry offers love, joy, and peace within, where all men are friends. You can create a work of art that comes from the heart. Poetry is a hiding place from the madness of the human race. A place you create, where there is no war or hate. Poetry is a hiding place.
Luther Jarman
SITUATIONS 11
THINGS COULD BE WORSE I wish I had a pill that takes care of my pain so I wouldn’t hurt when it rains. Things could be worse. I could be catching hell and be locked up in jail. Things could be worse. I could be homeless, broke, and having a stroke. Things could be worse. I could be working in a Kentucky onion room, sad and gloom. Things could be worse. I could have a wife, chasing me with a butcher’s knife. Things could be worse. I could be a Mississippi bullfrog sitting on a hollow stump or a Cincinnati garbage man working at the garbage dump. Things could be worse. I could be dead, riding in a hearse.
Luther Jarman
THE FOE
Life is like a 12-round fight. You have to fight with all your might. We fight against a vicious foe who causes us pain and woe. He’s crafty and quick. He’s full of tricks. He’s hard to lick. You can’t fool him— he knows who you are: a product of sin and a fallen star. I’m going to beat this foe, even though he’s hard to see. Because I realize this foe is me.
Luther Jarman
THE MIND/ THE GUESTHOUSE The mind is an inn where murderers, liars, and evil thoughts try to sneak in. In the guesthouse, there are foes and friends. The house is ruled by my mind— deals with emotions of all kinds. Greed, anger, and ignorance try to tear this house apart. But love and truth rule my heart. My house is built on a rock— Trouble can knock, knock, knock!
Luther Jarman
IMPRESSIONS FROM A FAMILY ALBUM One grandfather on my father’s side was a preacher from Macon, Georgia. My mother’s father was a bootlegger from Kentucky. One was full of the Holy Ghost. The other was full of corn licker. The one I loved the most was full of corn licker. Old praying Mary Green lying and crying, saying how she love Jesus! But when an old blind woman in her nursing home spilt food on her floor she smacked the hell out of her, saying “Why did you spill food on my floor?!” The old blind woman crying, “I am sorry!” Where is the love of Jesus, Mary? Betty—little black girl wants to be a movie star in Hollywood when she grows up. But when she grows up, she becomes a crack-head, stealing from everybody. David—a weary traveler. David, my brother, traveling from woman to woman—had 10 kids when he was 28. Went on the lam when the police was looking for him for child support. He’s probably got 50 kids by now.
Luther Jarman
NOVEMBER 5, 2006 November 5, 2006 I will be free from prison 23 years. I remember the fear and the tears. My family didn’t care if I rotted in jail. My mother would talk and write to me, I guess ’cause she didn’t have no other choice. It was so wonderful to hear her voice when they let me make a phone call. I remember the prison walls, pumping iron and doing push-ups every day— I would pray, pray, pray that someday I would get out of jail. 23 years later, I’m still catching hell.
Luther Jarman
SITUATIONS 13
PEACE
From drugging, caring, and not caring— The storm passes, Yet wept my mind’s deregulator— Drenching self once frozen So numb with fear. But oh, what tender tides I feel Embracing...transporting Lifting me afloat— A simple raft I never knew so strong Placed me in love...loving life’s new portions... Each glazed in peace I’ve sought, And now often find.
Iris Elizabeth Sankey
WHAT KIND OF A PERSON
“What kind of a person are you,” one may ask. I am as soft as the sinews of you, Yet steadfast as a desert flower Blooming with dew of faith. My flowered soul is scented sweet even in winter. I thrive like evergreen amid histories Fiercest touch to my roots— I am a woman calculating every challenge I choose, Pleasantly surprising...when least expected... I am with graces granted by my Creator Moving me toward more good Transcending me to live as never before understood— Mine eyes have awakened wholeheartedly To Creator’s will for me to love...not shun... So I am free, partaking of my unfolding. I fear nothing but fear itself So now I’m commissioned to uphold redemption Entreating...to higher grounds. Yet I am down-to-earth, people-oriented, ...commending spirits to Creator’s caring.
Iris Elizabeth Sankey
15 HAIKU My pen and I poised In sweet writing therapy Early in the morn.
Six hundred haiku Came my way like cheerful friends Quietly sharing.
Two different pawnshops— Two different engagement rings— Years of addiction.
Red ripe tomatoes Sitting with purple eggplant Inside yellow bowl.
Sand-colored cricket Alive on yellow silk rose On bedside table.
Earth— Most feminine of planets Holding array of lives.
Promise of spring Written in the wind and sky— With occasional bird.
Underneath parked car Baby mouse running around To find its way home.
Ants racing Build temporary hill Overlooking river.
My resolution for 2007? Make good things happen.
River flowing By the United Nations Feels weight of Security.
Iris Elizabeth Sankey
Friendly white dog Colliding my bike Licked me as I lay. In and out of love Like bright stars ever striving Not to fall dim. Distance and time— Identical hermaphrodites Waving different wands. Pen poised Blaring noise My mind’s a blank sheet.
SITUATIONS 15
HONEYS
There once were two containers Courting, Sitting side by side like my honey and me— With colors of black and white And grey in between And rainbow shades of dark and light... Rich colors painting abstractions, as you’ll see, Yet alive, Like the many moods of my honey and me.
Iris Elizabeth Sankey
PRELUDE TO SPRING
On this last Sunday morn Of January’s winter time, Just enough of tree limb leafless and bare Reveals bird twiddling— Moving bare branch, like breath of breeze... Not a sound I hear, And just like that... Flying from my sight, it flees— Leaving me to Hafiz... And silence, And first light of morning. But that’s not all, So I write to recall Chirping sound of birds I hear... Right outside my other window, As if prelude to Spring sits near... Refreshing...
Iris Elizabeth Sankey
UNTITLED #2 Once upon a time, I had no eye seeing beyond foggy Points of view: Of what I was supposed to choose and be— I could not see... What, where, when was I lifted So unnaturally high— I could not see... My sister said I lived in a fantasy world. O, but if she could see me now: My soul is anchored in newness of life, I know of peace, like a happy child, Engaging in my unfolding: I am a flower, even in winter.
Iris Elizabeth Sankey
PUDDLES
Meet Jenny. Since nine, she’s been a mommy to Mommy and her younger brother, age two, named Tommy ’cause Mommy ain’t there, most of the time and Daddy wasn’t there, none of the time. So this little young Ms. gotta grow up grind— she awakens at sunrise to baby cries while Momma got her nod on from heroin. Around here, that’s the norm. No lie, still Jenny strives, with pride. Hope’s alive that Daddy’s coming back one day and stop sending her checks the mailman way— ’cause she’s growing fast, Tommy too, and she don’t wanna hear him say Who are you? So she does what she gotta do: washes clothes, cops the milk, cleans the crib, and before feeding Tommy, she puts on his bib. She’s a grown-up kid, ahead of time. She blows my mind— how she knows who she wants to be, an M.D., so she can cure Mommy of her wicked disease— Please, God, she prays on her knees as she looks out the window at the rain and the breeze and believes the storm will pass, won’t last. Tears form puddles in the ghetto when kids parent their parents ’cause they’re drug addicts. Tears form puddles in the ghetto when people we love decide to suicide their lives. Tears form puddles in the ghetto when all hope is choked and no one believes.
MY CHRISTMAS TREE Space is my Christmas tree, the sun its star. To hell with Harrods! Space is prettier by far!
Carlos Lopez
Tears form puddles in the ghetto. Your ghetto. My ghetto. All ghettos.
Carlos Lopez
SITUATIONS 17
UNTITLED Floating, Floating, Floating— Spiraling from the heavens— A lone feather, All black, but for its tip— A never-before-seen silvery white
CONSIDER A CHANGE
When I awoke this morning I was living another day. Would I wake up tomorrow and get to say the same thing? I like some changes but there are some I would prefer not happen. I am glad to grow old, but I hate the aches and pains. I like living longer and longer, but I don’t like being alone. I am living with HIV, but the side effects of the meds are killing me. I am going to change my sad song now and enjoy today as if it were my last.
It continues to fall to earth And with each swirl Another life is revealed— A parallel universe of some kind Floating. Floating. Floating. Some days, I am light as a feather. Some days, I am spinning out of control. But I wait with anticipation For the time when I gently land. Where? I do not know.
Shurland H. Aird
GIFTS
Shurland H. Aird
There are many gifts in this world, And many of them are wrapped. Some are wrapped too tight. Some are wrapped too loose. Some have see-through wrapping. Some are wrapped in ego, which devalues them. Some are wrapped with love; Those are always worth more than we pay for them. Some are wrapped in anger, which usually hides Some hidden agenda. Some aren’t wrapped at all. And those gifts are what we make of them.
Shurland H. Aird
CENTRAL PARK, THE LAKE I sit by the lake and I wonder how something so simple can be so comforting, how something so silent can say so much, how something, through its very existence, can sustain life for so many others. I sit by the lake and I wonder.
Shurland H. Aird
CORETTA SCOTT KING She came from humble beginnings and grew into a strong black woman. Her loyalty to her family was matched by her need for equality. Her husband was the architect of the Civil Rights Movement, and she was his foundation. At times, she was in his shadow, but she was always the sunshine of his life. She nursed on his vision and grew strong as he continued his mission. She became a leader in her own right. The world is a much better place because she lived in it.
Shurland H. Aird
SITUATIONS 18
AM I LIVING OR AM I JUST GETTING OLDER? It has been said that life is a Banquet and most people are starving to Death. So I ask myself, Am I eating enough? Do I taste the different flavors of life? Am I adventurous enough to try something new? Or should I stick to my usual meal? The Banquet table gets refreshed constantly, but I’m always in the restroom when the good stuff is brought out, so I miss it. At times, the table appears to be ten feet tall and I cannot reach it. Other times, I am pushed and bullied to the back of the line. Once there, I reluctantly join the rest of the Starving, the Malnourished, the Dehydrated, the bottom of the food chain. Please tell me, show me, enlighten me as to how I can select the right foods for me. How can I live—really live? Not just get old. I am hungry. Feed me, world. Let me partake. LET ME PARTAKE IN THE BANQUET OF LIFE.
Shurland H. Aird
DINNER BY MOONLIGHT An evening stroll. A fatal mistake. A night made bright as day by moonlight. A hungry pack of snarling beasts. A lone deer took one last step.
Shurland H. Aird
I THINK I CAN I think I can.
I think I can. I think I can. But to do it, I have to move. I have to move from depression to acceptance. I have to move from solitude to gatherings. I am glad to be able to have these choices, for with these choices, I think I can, I know I will.
Shurland H. Aird
CHERISH
There are so many things that a person holds dear. Whether it’s something mental or physical, it draws a sort of affection. Because it’s so hard to let go of. Sure, some things come and some things go, because they’re thought about so much. It’s like when you scroll through your mind. You stop and think about the joy life gave you. Not sadness or anger—those type of thoughts, just let them go by the wayside.
Robert E. Lee
CONFIDENCE
Sticks and stones do break bones when thrown or used. But words don’t cause physical pain. They cause mental hurt and that leads up to pain. Everybody has buttons that ignite their violence. Don’t let those buttons be pushed. See, we all have a mental bubble that shouldn’t be tampered with. The bubble is built up of self-confidence. Because only you know what you can or can’t do. And if you like to soup people up, go ahead, become a magician so you can amaze, not hurt.
Robert E. Lee
AZURE
Colors are visual and sometimes very good to see because they have a certain type of mental impact. The impact can be bright, mellow, or dark. That means colors affect your emotions. But they’re not in control. You are. It’s like when you have a shiny day to look forward to, life goes on.
Robert E. Lee
SITUATIONS 21
THE FAMILY
We were a happy family. We talked, laughed, joked around. Everything seemed so pleasant and right. Then drugs and alcohol were introduced to us. And matters changed. We were still the happy family, but with more issues than before. Risky behavior, IV drug use, paraphernalia. In these moments, sadness came. And stayed. It’s a narrow road to no road at all. Recovery. Many years later, a healing is taking place. But still, addiction leaves an abrasion.
Tracy Collins
AIDS IS AIDS IS
Fear Pain Going Blind Losing your mind
AIDS IS
Sadness Rejection Doubt Coming out Finding out Who loves you
AIDS IS
Always Having to be extremely Careful
AIDS IS
The End Of impulsivity Of spontaneity
AIDS IS
Being worried Losing chunks of yourself With each friend buried
AIDS IS
Natural??? Manu fracture able???
AIDS IS
An extremely lucrative Worldwide Business
AIDS IS
Not a “Chronic Manageable Disease”
AIDS IS
A bloodsucker A lifetaker A familybreaker An insatiable Orphanmaker
D.A.S.I.S. Welfare
AIDS IS
Spreadingggggggggggggg DIS EASE
People running systems That don’t care
AIDS IS
OUR CHALLENGE
AIDS IS
Deleting names From your address book And Rolodex
AIDS IS
Wondering... Whose name you’ll be Removing NEXT!!! Who will care??? For your beloved pets
AIDS IS
Chardelle Imani Lassiter
SITUATIONS 23
NEED.......FEED When I have a NEED that I’ve got to FEED whether it be CRACK COCAINE BOOZE WEED Whether I’ve got to BEG STEAL BORROW PLEAD You can be sure OH YES INDEED I’ll find a way to FEED THAT NEED I’ll steal my mother’s check I’ll sell my baby’s shoes You see I’M FEEDING A NEED THAT HAS NOTHING TO LOSE I’ll pawn my woman’s ring I’ll sell my man’s work tools I’M FEEDING A NEED AND... Acting a fool
I SHOT UP my family SNORTED UP all my friends Those who once loved me NEVER want to see me AGAIN You see IN MY MAD HUNGER ALL MY HURRY AND HASTE I squandered what mattered for a hit...for a taste You say, what a pity! A life full of waste and...give advice that I ought to HEED Excuse me a moment It’s suppertime I’VE GOT TO GO FEED MY NEED
Chardelle Imani Lassiter
??
Inside knowing Ever growing ETERNALLLLLLLY FLOOOOWING Cascading Parading from Inmost center of Self Fountainhead of Worst and Best It’s here one passes and fails Soul’s test.
Chardelle Imani Lassiter
HAIKU Love arrives slowly beats hasty retreat
Men tally ill
FOLLOW THE CROWD Follow the Crowd. Follow the Crowd.
Look Not! Left nor Right! Up nor Down! Backwards or Forwards! LOOK NOT! Especially around! Follow the Crowd. Be afraid Be very afraid Of...what they say Of...what they think Are you afraid??? Want some coke? Some crack? A drink?
New gets old
Let them think...for you After all...they know your mind Better than...you do?!
Echoes imitate echoes imitate...
Follow the Crowd Be afraid Follow the Crowd...Quivering and cowed Follow the Crowd...With your head bowed.
Gauge AIDS Plague Rage
BE SILENT!!! DON’T YOU DARE GET LOUD!!! FOLLOW—FOLLOW—FOLLOW... THE CROWD.
Water Falls.
Chardelle Imani Lassiter
Chardelle Imani Lassiter
SITUATIONS 25
Death don’t own no clock Death don’t care about (no?) time Death sweeps its hand across its face making time to live a lie
Chardelle Imani Lassiter
No choice have we all must kneel to the power of life loss pain grief however each has the power to refuse to be eaten to be beaten by defeat.
Chardelle Imani Lassiter
IMAGINE
Imagine a world without war, a world where countries would trade discoveries as well as commodities
HAVE AND HAVE NOTS
Imagine a world with no diseases no colds, no flu no children born with birth defects
I have learned that love is worth the risk of loss I have learned that anger harms no one more than he who harbors it —that bitterness and true happiness are choices that we make not conditions that fall upon us from the hands of fate —that peace is to be found in the acceptance of things we are unable to change —that friends and family are the blood of life and that the purpose of existence is caring commitment.
Imagine people saying “good morning” just because you’re another human being Just Imagine
monté
Amen.
monté
Bold and beautiful bodacious and bountiful behold another breaking bulletin from the depths of my well well thought of well thought up Well
monté
Graciously I go there with the crinkled, crumpled leaves skittering across the slate slabs that give way to the skeletal branches
monté
SITUATIONS 27
ALONE
Sometimes it seems I’m aloof, Separate, apart from the rest Sometimes I want to be alone Truth be told, this is not so For many years I have been alone I grew up alone Have been left alone Live alone God, please don’t let me die alone.
monté
ODE TO THE EYES
Granted, I was lucky to be born with two. In the beginning I used to wish they were blue or green or grey— What can I say? Been there, done that. But now I cherish them dearly. They laugh. They cry. They can make you cry. I can call you across the room or send you far away. They can be wide open and see nothing. Or I can shut them and see a whole new world.
SAFETY FIRST Seems like a long time since I really felt the touch of a body next to mine like the feel of a dozen parachutes supporting different parts of my body like when one is underwater with nothing to encumber you like sound like clothes like diving into a truck full of goose feathers ...once again like when I’m in your arms
monté
BEING FIRST I am the first of my group to survive this virus
I was the first to tell them they were wrong when they told me in 1986 that I had, at most, two years to live I will be the first to tell you you are not alone I will be the first to tell you you don’t have to die from AIDS
Let’s face it, the eyes have it!
I will be the first to tell you be a first
monté
monté
WINTER’S KISS Where snowy grounds bleed & trees meet, leaves have fallen & enlisted the gracious puddles among them... Sounds muddled become crisp. Flakes cover sweet chestnutcolored cabins & loving leaps.
QUEEN
Somebody told me I couldn’t amount to anything— I wouldn’t! I ask, why not?
Angels drawn & children’s laughter-filled surrounding nutmeg scented & aroma load hot chocolate’s warmth.
(Passionate about the things I’ve lived, true “depth.” The real deal.)
Cherrywood drifts welcoming to hug you. Snug to catch you.
Someone told me I didn’t have appeal— & I relished & then rebelled in the moment & thought about how that feels.
What more of tender mercies from the window’s frame stretched out humble, wanting to know your name....
(Passionate about the things I give, true “depth.” The real deal. The things I’ve lived.)
Where snowy blossoms— under midnight skies....
Raw emotion, deep-rooted to the core. I rise, I rise, I rise
grow, grow, grow!
Someone told me my life wouldn’t amount to anything & I—being so passionate about life & survival—I rival that argument of judgment & say, “Yeah, right!”
I lean on winter’s kissed possibility!
Passionate about so much more & who I am.
as I hear the supreme whisper—
Spyhrit
I am true to who I am— true depth— the real deal.
Spyhrit
SITUATIONS 29
WORDS What is important? Words/ powerful in praise!
Can make your heart skip beats with warmth & passion or cold & woeful saddening or enter you into the darkest of days. Words make or break—they leave a stake. Sometimes good, sometimes bad. Make you think they leave scars—deep down, the hurtful kind. All those tears & fears have now become embittered & embattled. And you become numb from all that you encountered. And amidst it all somewhere, somewhere you heard that call that your strength would not allow you to fall enough to see, enough to be.
Spyhrit
SOME GOOD MUSIC
This morning I put me on some feel good music and said FUCK IT! I danced around my house and forgot about the mouse. (He or she was probably hangin’ too!) It was better than the damn gray that’s been lingerin’— I’m tired of being down and having doubt. I thought about pumpkin pancakes and turkey bacon. That music pumped and took me back to a place, took me back to a moment of face— made me look good, doin’ all the things I know I could. Back in the hood— that music took me away. And I say, “Hey! It’s another day!” I said, “Thank you!” I said, “Thank you!”
Spyhrit
FACTS (BLUE INK)
The sound of an alarm telling us it’s time to wake up. The sound of voices and movements vibrating from left to right. We learn to move one leg, then the other. You have learned step one. The smell of milk and honey, freshness of bread and blueberry waiting to be explored by us. As we expand our mind to the information we acquire within us the ability to accomplish whatever we want.
Larry G.
ELEMENT!
There: a new one, old one. There: a red, yellow, brown, brick and wood one. There: short ones, tall ones, flat and rounded ones. Some are warm where others are cold. Like people who are warm with love and others who are cold. You will know some of their birthdays, their birthplace, where they stood, their history— without the tense desire to do a thing about it. You will see them in a large group standing like a family. Where others will stand alone with all four sides unblemished and in tact. Where others have been abandoned, gutless, eerie— where rotten bottles, weeds have taken up residence. Where our elements have changed with nature at her best.
Larry G.
SITUATIONS 31
GIVING
Curtain. Glass. Wall. Window. Open up a world of daylight like you’ve never seen before.
Larry G.
DONKEY
donkey in you, donkey in me— all have something beautiful to hay. Necking. wonderful. exciting. nude. beautiful. satisfying.
Larry G.
HUMBLE Getting on board receiving points for the thing you ask.
Larry G.
SLAVERY, THEN AND NOW The slaves of yesterday dreamed of freedom. The slaves of today dream of freedom. The slaves of yesterday dreamed of a better life for their family. They dreamed of the day when their children wouldn’t have to pick cotton or do other backbreaking work. The slaves of today dream of a better life for their family. They dream of the day when their children can get a good education and not have to steal or sell drugs to survive.
Rufino Colón
THE ANIMAL IN ME Sometimes I am a falcon and soar high up in the sky and am one with God.
Sometimes I am a snake and want to be left alone and if you don’t, I’ll bite you.
Rufino Colón
GOD!
God! is pure love. God! is a mother looking at her child’s face for the first time. God! is the junkie or crack-head on the corner. God! is all that is good in mankind. God! is the master over all evil. God! is the one who guided the surgeon’s hands.
Rufino Colón
DON PEDRO ALBIZU CAMPOS Don Albizu is to most Puerto Ricans like Martin Luther King, Jr. To me, he was more like Malcolm X. The reason I say Malcolm is that he said things like, “Where tyranny is law, revolution is order.” Like King, Malcolm, Che, Gandhi, Moses and Jesus, he gave his life for what he believed in.
Rufino Colón
SITUATIONS 33
CHRISTMAS
Christmas can be a time of happiness or a time of sadness. A time of happiness if you’ve been blessed with family, friends, and health. A time of sadness for those who lost a loved one on 9/11 or the families of the Mount Hood mountain climbers.
Rufino Colón
TO BE STRONG To be humble when others are being disagreeable. To be kind when others are being mean. To be pure when others are being corrupt. To be strong for the weak.
Rufino Colón
THE OLD MEETS THE YOUNG
INVITED
The old teach the young to live. The young give the old a reason to live.
And I accepted—as a sinner, I was blessed by his grace to have been invited.
The old talk about the good old days. The young talk about how to make tomorrow better.
At the party, I will dance with humbleness, gratitude, and love.
The old teach the young and the young refresh the old.
Rufino Colón
God has invited me to the party
Humble in his presence, grateful for the invite, love for myself.
MY SOUL
My soul as a child was free and happy! My soul in my teen years became distrustful and suspicious, and looked to drugs for its freedom and happiness. My soul in my young adult years became hard and criminal. My soul in my middle years stopped believing in God and became very vengeful. My soul today believes in God, and is free and happy!
Rufino Colón
Rufino Colón
NO PAIN, NO GAIN
I guess I can say I was lucky enough to never have been homeless. I have never lived on the streets. Even though I have been through some hard times, I am still fighting the fight for life. I could go out and have a drink, but I stop and think, What will I gain but more heartache and pain? Because tomorrow, I will wake up sober and hung over. As I write this, I know that I am still going through my pain. I don’t know why, because I have accepted it. But my feelings just won’t change. I am not going to lie. I just don’t want to die. At the same time, I know I can make it. I just cannot get rid of all the pain. I want to move on with my life because I know that I have so much to gain.
D.C.
FAMILY GATHERINGS When families get together the one thing they almost always do is eat. Everyone cooks their favorite dish and brings it to the table. Now that we have finished eating, let’s have a little fun playing spades and Scrabble, video games for the kids. By doing this at least once a year, the family will keep in touch— eat, stay healthy, have fun. I wish my family would do this. Maybe we would get along much better.
D.C.
SITUATIONS 35
FOOD & FUN
1. First: food. Food is something we all need for our body. I like to eat, but I don’t like to cook. But I can cook if I need to. What I like about food is that it comes in Chinese, Italian, Jamaican, American—and there is health food, which we should all try to eat. Me personally, I do not care for fast food—McDonald’s, Wendy’s, Burger King. It’s not good for you. 2. Second: fun. I like to have fun. You need a little fun in your life. Fun is also healthy to have in your life, so that life isn’t so depressing.
D.C.
JOIN ME AT MY
TABLE IF YOU DARE
As I sit at my table and work on my ode—which for me would be my HIV—it is a struggle, but my God handed it to me to see if I will use it for the good or let it take me away. But here I am to tell you that I am here to stay, because I finally realized that HIV does not have me, I have HIV. There is a table for everyone to sit at. Maybe you have not found yours yet, but your table awaits, and if it is like mine, you will have many guests. Because whatever you are going through in life, there is someone else going through it too, so welcome them to your table.
D.C.
GOD’S SHINING ANGEL
As I sit in my church I should feel safe in my place in God’s House. But as I sit in my pew, I wonder what would you do if you knew that I was HIV positive. Then I say to myself, Who knows? You could be HIV positive, too...But how will I know, or better yet, how would you know? HIV does not have a face unless you put it there, meaning if I disclose to my fellow Church-goers, will they still see me as the God’s Angel that I know I am, or will they talk about me on the low and think I don’t know. (Maybe.) But my God knows and He is watching over me, his Shining Angel. (That’s me.)
D.C.
REMEMBERING SCENES ON ANIMAL PLANET
I wonder how connected we are spiritually to animals— or how limited their cognitive sense. Their hearing is so acute that familiar footsteps are recognized from a great distance. Peluche (my Chihuahua) is quite extraordinary. We begin our day with his greeting me in the hallway, tail resembling a pendulum. He then sits at my feet to be picked up with a “Goooood morning, Peluche!” hug. There is fresh water and breakfast for him. We interact actively during the day. He knows how to get my attention by whining. If ignored, he barks loudly until I respond. Peluche will then look in the direction of his wants sticking his tongue in and out as he wags his tail. Sitting on my lap, pawing at my hand, and turning his back to me denotes “massage time” for him. If I spell T-R-E-A-T, he looks at me, runs, and sits at the closet door where the treats are kept. When he wants extra “Peluche Time,” he sits on his chair and barks. Translation: “Please come rub my head and talk to me!” I always bid him “goodnight” before retiring. After viewing the mistreatment I saw on Animal Planet TV, I’ve concluded that the two-legged, inhuman, donkey-like-psyche owners should exchange places with their pets. If only they would realize pain is experienced by animals also.
Ruth Bryant
SITUATIONS 37
Doggone it! I think entirely too much emphasis is put on numbers and age association. When it comes to my age, I am proud. Extremely proud to have reached that tremendous day. Yet pre-ASC, I enjoyed the inquiries: “Hold old are you?” It was a thing that, as we age, “it’s cool” to keep those years with an unanswered question. You know, the “mystique” of the female gender. Of course, here at ASC I’m constantly writing my numbers down. Now, when someone asks, the answer is there: 78!! Hence, I feel it’s wonderful to have gotten here with my children, grands, great-grands and great-great-grands. RIGHT ON, RUTHIE!!
Ruth Bryant
VISION
The rumbling is audible. The stomach pains are lightning bolts. There is a need to extinguish the flames. During the ritual of bottle collecting she drains the remaining liquids. It causes her mouth-blisters to scream. She awakens with a scream. The scream is real. Her dream is not.
HAIKU Homeless man devoid of shelter embraces rain
Broken spell changing street light green means go Red epidermis sensitive, burning contact sunblock forgotten
Ruth Bryant
Do dreams come true? Do they foretell the future?
Ruth Bryant
TWO TYPES OF INTELLIGENCE When I was a child I learned to crawl then I learned to walk. I liked to learn everything. Then I went to kindergarten to learn my ABCs. I finished high school. All of this is acquired intelligence. I have to work to make a living. Working is no fun. Bending up and down, I am a cleaner and it is physical work. I would like to have my own business, like an entrepreneur. When my business is growing I will hire more people. I want to help somebody in need. I want to give back to the community. After all, it shows humanity to be caring and have compassion for human beings. To have happiness and peace on earth, for tomorrow is another day. This is natural intelligence.
Beng L. Kam
THE GIFT OF LIFE Every morning, the alarm clock rings. I wake up from my bed to do the things I like to do— work, enjoy, and relax. I am grateful to be alive as a human being on this planet Earth and to have the gift of speaking different languages.
Beng L. Kam
SITUATIONS 39
THE MOON SEES ME Back of a Ford, nothing to eat but PB & J. Pop’s out of work. Mom’s too tired to even fight. My three sisters are asleep. The motor keeps me awake. The moon shines through the window like a diamond. Pop says the moon follows you everywhere— God’s way of keeping you safe. To this day, I always see the moon with special eyes, ’cause the moon is mine. ** My father was an abrasive SOB and kept us on the road for years. I have little fondness for him, but one day as I fell asleep in the back of the Ford, I looked out the window. The moon was bright. And he said, “Honey, it follows you, ’cause you’re special.” To this day, whenever I look at the moon, I feel special.
Theresa Ilardi
THE CHAMELEON I escaped like a chameleon from sobriety and fell further and further into darkness. I can fool her, him, and you but all eyes see me and I have to live with my eyes and me. I picked the eye, trying to fool everyone and often I do. But all see, and mostly me. I know when I drink, and I see.
Theresa Ilardi
OUT OF THIS MESS
Out of this mess we pray for understanding of life. Out of this mess, why God is stingy is because inside you’re full of strife. Out of this mess is to clear your head of dreams before you get too old. Out of this mess is God’s whole intention. Out of this mess He uses the goddess— rarely, I must mention—for me and you. Out of this mess He brought you through.
John A. Cooper
INTELLIGENCE Intelligence can be disastrous like a volcano exploding. Intelligence can be judgmental like Enron Corporation imploding.
Intelligence is enthusiastic as a book on sports. Intelligence is no money, but you obtain a pair of Michael Jordan’s Chicago Bulls jersey & shorts. Intelligence can be measured through grades from books. Intelligence can be naturally learned from the streets, like a pusher or a crook. Intelligence is an infinite tool that the earth uses to sustain life. Intelligence is from the earth— what you perceive will be your life, peace or strife. Intelligence can be your last call on the planet and in the grave. Intelligence can leave you alone and to books a slave. But most of all, intelligence is a friend, whether you’re blessed or full of sin.
John A. Cooper
SITUATIONS 41
I AM
I am a child born of innocence. I am a child born of innocence. I am a child that loves sunlight. I am a child that hates the cold. I am a child that loves to be held by the loving arms of my mother. I am a child that loves to be held by the loving arms of my mother. I am a child that crawls before I walk. I am a child that lunges before I swim. I am a child with ribbons and bows. I am a child bruised by abuse and screams of violence. I am a child, a child! I am a child, a child, a child— Mommy—a child!!
MARTIN, MARTIN
Where in the world would you be today, if an assassin’s bullet had not taken your life away? I remember as a high school student watching you on TV as you gave us your great speech.
Lorraine Zier I also remember walking home from school in the 11th grade and being around a crowd of kids, walking down the block and hearing a TV through open doors and a woman walking out of the house, crying, saying, Martin Luther King was pronounced dead.
THE PROSTITUTE
Martin, you were loved by millions.
Lorraine Zier
They use her, abuse her. I wonder how much she makes by the hour. She smells sweet, like a popular flower.
Lorraine Zier
MISS LORRAINE Miss Lorraine, you have not a home. So you have time to roam.
Lorraine Zier
MA-MA
Ma-Ma was my grandmother, an older woman in the eyes but young in the heart. God has taken her, but we will never be apart. Her voice is played in my eyes... “Tree, where is my tree? Come, sit down with me. My, how tall and beautiful! You have grown to be my tall and beautiful tree.” A saying in my heart that will always be remembered. For her tree, her tall, beautiful tree will grow more knowing she’s waiting for her tall, beautiful tree.
Ashley Johnson
MY GIFT TO YOU My gift to you: a pair of black shoes and a game of Clue. My gift to you: blue sweater to go with the cold weather. My gift to you is the love from my heart, something you can’t break or lose. Please don’t abuse it, for it came from the heart. My gift to you.
Ashley Johnson
SITUATIONS 43
AT LAST
At last, time has me, passing from the present to a future that’s still incomplete. At last, raising a truth with the facts— need not make up any excuse or give any reason for them to grow roots, like a river or a steam ship or a boat that plies its wares, as it must float to port. At last, there comes that time. Can one understand? At last, the beginning is my present. Not my last.
M.A. Gustine
BLACK PEARL There you see on this night of New Year’s Eve a wondrous sight—the last of this year. The beauty of wonder—Black Pearl, Ms. Eve. Now I know in this flow the glow of pure gold. Lady, Ms. Black Pearl, the soul of this world. You are the Duchess and the Duke of Earl. You, the lady that is my world. I say your name, Lady Black Pearl— To say with pride, you give it, no lie. Black Pearl, you are the world.
M.A. Gustine
INNER BEAUTY Isn’t there a fact, not lacking in substance nor flattering in structure— what some may call inner beauty. Standing with grace rising above cascading falls bellowing in the mist of dew. Listening out for a change of pace, we sometimes forsake. It’s never a shame or mistake. Inner beauty—the whole of our insides. Do we all share this trust of a prize? Can we rely on it, within the soul of our heart— something we wish not to hide. One has to choose, hopefully never to lose.
M.A. Gustine
IF
If I was the king of the world would it bring me happiness? If I had a kind and beautiful, humble lady— my new girlfriend—could she take away my loneliness and sadness, and offer me peace and love? If I had a fly woman, would she be true to me or always make me jealous and blue? If I had all the gold, silver, diamonds, and treasures on earth, would I be a wild pirate or change into a sad, evil, drunken sailor?
Edwin
THE POET
The poet is a child of God. He believes in a higher power. He prays and meditates, day and night. He is kind and humble, to himself and others. The love of God has lifted all his troubles and taken away all his evil thoughts and feelings about himself and the strangers around him. He is at peace with himself, and at peace with his higher power, too.
Edwin
IN THE LORD’S HANDS
It is good to have money, but it can’t bring me happiness. I had a lot of it in the past, worked forty years—all my life— but with emptiness. It never lasted. I leave all my doubts and troubles in the Lord’s hands now. I’ve gotten a spiritual awakening at the end of the tunnel. I’m no longer the town drunk or stuck in an alcohol funnel. Nowadays, I’m working on myself. My health is more important than all the money on earth. I’m at peace with myself, like a baby at birth.
SAVE THE BEARS
Save the bears. Save the bears. Free the Grizzly Bears and Polar Bears. Rich women don’t care. All they want are fur coats— killing tigers, raccoons, leopards and bears. Save the bears. Save the bears. If mankind and hunters keep this up, our children and their children will see all God’s creatures disappear. Can you hear? It’s clear. Save the bears. Save the bears.
Edwin
Edwin
SITUATIONS 45
LIVE TO LET LIVE Why do you put a foot on my neck, a foot on my back? Damn, my Brother, I am Black, Black like you, like me, Black on Black crime, that’s the way it’s got to be— live to let live. Slavery is over, so why hate me? Hate the game, not the player. You want what I have? Learn to work, that’s class. You stab a knife in my back. Take two steps: look, I am Black. Live to let live. You talk to my girlfriend behind my back, you smile in my face and that’s a fact. I still have my girlfriend and I am proud to be Black. So remember, friends come and friends go. Stab me in my back again—be ready to throw. Live to let live. Black on Black—it’s a crime you’re not my Brother. True fact: live to let live is the fact.
Bruce Jr. (a.k.a. Priest)
TO ALL MY HOMIES
To all my homies in the housing projects who survived The struggle of both poverty and neglect Who ran for days on hope and energy Who lived through depression, recession, and oppression. To all my homies, who still kept a smile— No food on their table, no money to be seen— With no dog or cat— Just the old poor man’s dream. To all my homies, who live to remember The pain of segregation, no voter’s registration, mis-education by false communication. To all my homies who have now passed on to meet their maker, Those who fought for freedom of speech, freedom to teach and lasting freedom to claim as free. To all my homies heaven-bound, missing only their faces around This no-sleep town, hearing their voices from time to time Causing me to reflect on their struggles As I too draw the line.
Anthony Ellis
SITUATIONS 47
BLANK PAGE FACED THE INSIDE BACK COVER
ASC’s Creative Writing Workshop provides a forum for creative expression, healing, and hope for people affected by HIV/AIDS. For more information, visit ASC’s website, www.ascnyc.org, or call 212-645-0875.
helping many, one by one AIDS Service Center NYC 41 East 11th St., New York, NY 10003 (212)645-0875
fax 645-0705
www.ascnyc.org
