Tuesday, July 30, 2013

30 July 2013

Ntozake Shange [Marilyn K. Yee]

From Okra to Greens / A Different Love Poem / We Need a Change

i haveta turn my television down sometimes cuz
i cant stand to have white people/ shout at me/
sometimes i turn it off
cuz i cant look at em in my bedroom either/
being so white/
that’s why i like/ greens/
they cdnt even smell you/ wdnt know what you taste like
without sneakin/ got no
idea you shd be tingled wit hot sauce & showered wit vinegar
yr pot liquor spread on hot rolls

i gotta turn the tv off cuz the white people
keep playing games/ & followin presidents on vacation at the war
there’s too much of a odor problem on the tv too/ which
brings me back to greens

i remember my grandma at the market pickin turnips
collards kale & mustards/ to mix-em up/ drop a 1/2 a strick a lean
in there wit some ham hock & oh my whatta life/
i lived in her kitchen/ wit greens i cd recollect
yes the very root of myself
the dirt & lil bugs i looked for in the fresh collards/
turnin each leaf way so slow/ under the spicket/ watchin
lil mounds of dirt fall down the drain
i done a good job
grandma tol me/ got them greens just ready for the pot
& you know/ wdnt no white man on the tv/
talkin loud n formal make no sense of the miracle
a good pot a greens on a friday nite cd make to me
that’s the only reason i turn em off the tv

cant stand they gossipin abt the news/ sides they dont
never like the criminals & enemies i like anyway
that’s why i like GREENS/ i know how to cook em
& i sure can dream gd/ sopping up the pot liquor
& them peppers/

We Need a God Who Bleeds Now

we need a god who bleeds now
a god whose wounds are not
some small male vengeance
some pitiful concession to humility
a desert swept with dryin marrow in honor of the lord

we need a god who bleeds
spreads her lunar vulva & showers us in shades of scarlet
thick & warm like the breath of her
our mothers tearing to let us in
this place breaks open
like our mothers bleeding
the planet is heaving mourning our ignorance
the moon tugs the seas
to hold her/ to hold her
embrace swelling hills/ i am
not wounded i am bleeding to life

we need a god who bleeds now
whose wounds are not the end of anything

No comments:

Post a Comment