today, i’m trying

not to think about how i want to kiss you

with my mouth open,
and my eyes just the same.
i want to not want to see you-
(really
see you)
shiver straight out of our current context,
carefully crafting a new one.
wanna stop dreamin’ of a new one.

                                         today, i’m trying

to learn everything your eyes mean
gonna meet your mistakes
and hope they get along just fine with mine.
i mean, forget they get along just fine with mine.

                                         today, i’m trying

not to need you extracted,
p  u   l    l     e      d        like espresso
on a simple saturday morning
not desire you sleepy from swapping stories on a sunday
not beg for your everything in between
not want to murder our mid-day sitting on the porch listening to the wind wink
or see our own silence
want to forget our voices but i just can’t forget our voices.

                                       today, i’m trying

to forget the first time you heard me use mine
and called me complex.
until that point, i had never been called anything but a code, an equation-
a thing easily solvable with time.
but you know me as intricate
and that painted me so electric
i started literally writing poems in a movie theatre

                                      today, i’m trying

to stop doing that,
to make it so i don’t have to say,
“i know, i also paid twelve dollars for a ticket and bought an overpriced slurpee (‘cause it was the blue kind) – it’s just that i’m feeling inspired and i kind of need to go with it.”
which seems but is not absolutely ridiculous
seems so because we were watching transformers
(and who gets inspired to write while watching transformers?)
but ridiculous? it is not because
there were children laughing, time was passing and i thought about how if you were a concept you would be ‘possible’
but still everyone thought i was texting-
damn it, guys, i swear i’m slightly less rude than this so

today, i’m trying

not to write anymore stanzas in silent spaces,
it’s just
you touched the small of my back more than once,
which i called honest
but you called fleeting.

 today, i’m trying

to reconcile the difference.
to disremember the difference.
and how you said men are idealistic about love
and women, we’re practical
and how i didn’t say but very much wanted to say,”i think of myself as both.”


today i’m trying

to sing songs to your serenity
I don’t know how it got there but

                                     today i’m trying

to focus less on the ‘got there’s
and more on the ‘getting there’s
                                  today i’m trying.

a piece i did for today’s speak-out on my campus against sexual violence:

 

There is a contagion on my campus.
There is a sickness in society.
I am not a doctor but I am deeply concerned
‘cause it doesn’t take an MD to realize that we are unwell. Our women are coughing, our men are ill too- this is gender neutral
‘cause we’re all infected.
It’s not just my malady, or yours.
This is everyone’s illness.
so here I speak:
40% poetry, 100% dissatisfaction, and 100% a call to action
now I don’t mean speak in a, “hey women should just speak up about this stuff when it’s happening” kinda way
“cause that’ll end it” kinda way-
because that’s only a peek at the problem-
That’s only a whisper of what’s wrong.
I mean seriously speak, in a ‘together thousands of voices hitting the same note,
singing the same song in solidarity’ kinda way.
We are brilliant beings with thoughts and throats who have forgotten about our ability to use them.
Hey, let’s use them.
let’s tell everyone we know to tell everyone they know that our current conversation about sexual violence isn’t working, obviously
as evidence of 5 sexual assaults reported in 4 weeks
now there are those people who say,
“sexual assaults haven’t increased, just the reporting of them, so it’s fine”
dear those people, it is most certainly not and absolutely never will be “fine”.
I commend the brave ones speaking up and reporting violence
but, see, my interest is not in less reports, but in less silence
and bigger than that,
I don’t want less timely warning emails I want less reasons to be sent timely warning emails
Because, while five is too many, one is also too many
because the only number of assaults I’m alright with occurring on my campus, and in my community is zero
I read, “an injury to one is an injury to all” and that couldn’t be more relevant.
I am but one
but I stand for all
and you should too.
we owe it to ourselves, our fellow classmates and our community to make it known that we know none of this is okay.
to make it known that we’re working on being okay
and this starts with a different discourse-
one that never victim blames,
one that tells attackers not to attack
not just victims not to become victims
what I’m referring to, what I’m speaking out against is something known as rape culture-
a culture that more or less condones these acts
inadvertently by putting responsibility in the hands of those who aren’t really responsible.
See a doer does.
See a rapist rapes
and a victim is just that- a victim.
sure he or she should stand up and speak out when he or she is victimized
but let’s work on the first half of the problem-
let’s work on never being victimized.
they tell us there is a way to do this.
they tell us, let’s talk about safety. Sure, let’s talk about safety:
walking down the street I should feel safe.
Letting a friend stay over I should feel safe.
That safety sways when we aren’t told about what real safety is.
Real safety is proactive not reactive.
Real safety is not about doing something because something else happens.
Real safety is about never letting that something else happen in the first place.
Real safety is talking not just about safety but also talking about consent.
So let’s talk about consent.
A colleague of mine pointed out the other day that the only posters we have around campus addressing consent, read, “consent is sexy.”
she said to me, “Consent is not sexy, It is mandatory”
I brushed off her words, so easy
but they stuck with me
so I the paid them the attention they deserved,
said shit, you’re right.
Consent isn’t cute it is compulsory.
But see, we created an apparently ineffective trend out of something obligatory,
meanwhile half our classmates are feeling like they’re stuck in purgatory.
and half think everything is going hunky-dory.
This has to end- 
We must revamp the rhetoric about safety.
We must change the conversation about consent.
This has to end-
With a bang not a whisper
this has to end.
and it starts with me
it starts with us
it starts with this day
and goes on with the next and the next and the next
‘cause for now this fight is one worth waging every single day
until every single one of our women and our men walk not in fear but in unity.

This is called how to chase happiness the way sadness chases you

because happiness is not something you can cross your fingers and hope for-
it is something you must chase after
even when your shoes are falling apart.
so all puns intended this,
this is a running list, as I am working on it
we all are, so

1. Dissect your devastation

Catalogs your concerns,
survey your sadness-
scrap near everything that clouds your judgment.

Save but a few misery-makers
(for research and development, obviously)

2.Call your own bluff
Discover your own disconnect.

Replenish your well
without having to be told
it is running dry.
Invite your bullshit over for dinner
and then kick him out.

YOU are your own referee.
(Now call foul play already.

3.watch your words
try and chew them
before you speak them.

swallow the mean ones,
the deal-breakers, the day-ruiners.
(they don’t digest well…do it anyways.)
& then when you talk
it’ll be with purpose.
with kindness.
or just (mostly)
without heartbreak.

4.Arrange &Attend your greatest enemy’s funeral.
(Literally? Maybe.
Metaphorically? Absolutely.)

Isn’t it your voice
on life’s loudspeaker?
(Day in and day out
mumbling excuses?
Putting yourself down?)
Shut it up already!
Cut the chord.
Kill the choir of
“I can’t” (s)
that you let dictate
your days.

Refuse to light (even) one more self-destructing spark of verbal negativity.
Silence your sorrows ability to dim you
by dissolving your discouraging vocabulary
(Shoulda, Coulda & Woulda are your nemeses.)
So bury them.
RIGHT
NOW
(and don’t
bring them flowers.
don’t even visit those assholes.)
5. Repeat this: “if it ain’t broken, don’t fix it”
but if it is broken get our your glue and get to work.

Repeat this too: humans are human so

if you are human
stop forgetting
other people
are also.

6. Give gratitude to everyone including yourself-

when was the last time you looked in the mirror and said thank you?
Rome wasn’t built in a day and neither were you.

  1. do not let yourself
    fool yourself
    into thinking yourself
    is just all self.

do not let your lonely heart
scream louder
than your peers trying to tell you

“hello, you are not alone.”
when there are hands being stretched towards you,
(i mean good, honest hands,)
stretch back.
accept them.

  1. do the same: be a glass of lemonade

to another,
on the hottest summer day.

offer the best of yourself to someone who needs it

but remind them that it is a loan

  1. remember you are the author-

if the story didn’t end the way you wanted it to.
go write another one.

10. stay astounded
there is nothing worse
than no longer feeling awestruck.
nothing more
disheartening
than no longer seeing the world.
no longer looking at the scars on your skin,
the blank stare in your eyes
and  wondering how in the hell
it all got there.
please keep wondering how in the hell it all got there…

<and repeat as necessary>

 

“Becoming an agent of historical change”

today my professor said there are scientific studies saying,
“we are actually soft-wired to be hyper-competitive, we are more hardwired to be empathetic”

as in
there is this illusion that we are born brutal,
born tough,

born sinners,

born evil

this is just a falsity.
this is just some cover up.
this is just a coping mechanism.
this could be a long poem
or I can just end it here with
hey, give your friends
way, way
more hugs.

 

Philadelphia is a city trying

She used to boom and bustle,
now she yearns and yawns.

‘Cause Philadelphia is a city tired.
her bones ache these days and she’s been napping
more than she used to.
we saw her waking over a month ago,
we saw her squint her eyes at the sun.
(’cause Philadelphia is a city hopeful)
we asked, “who is going to help you?
who will make you coffee?
who will say, ‘good morning love, you need to wake up.’
who will tell your story?”

she said, with a smile, that she is waiting for her revival,
ever waiting for her promising patrons to do their part.
she said, “the answer lies in the ones growing up near my groggy eyes.”
she said the answer lies in her children
for they are her historians,
fact-finders, fact-livers, perfect primary sources.
they are the story-tellers of both her tale and their own-

“if anyone is to save me,” she spoke,
it has got to be them.

 

Kids are so resilient,

bouncing back and back and back and
believing i’m sorry(‘s)
every time they are spoken
and not questioning “i promise
or “i love you” or “i mean it(‘s)“.
they are everyone’s advocate
they are proud
and generous
they are forgiving
they are relentless
they are effervescent
and curious.
they are teachers.
-&

a collection of words about young hands holding paint brushes.

(context: these are about my time at Sheppard Elementary School in North Philadelphia helping muralist Sandra Gonzalez with a mural project in the school. a group of us worked with different classrooms of the elementary school students to help them paint tiles for the mural to be installed in their school)

The fountain of youth
need not be discovered.
you can lose your latest wrinkle in the
presence of children-
their energy urging yours out of hiding.

______

Acrylic paint splatters do not come out and neither does the impact made while obtaining them

I heard a boy sing today
better than half the adults I know
and I made him pinky swear he would keep at it
pinky swear he would practice even though his teacher
told him to knock it off and his friends (sometimes
more than sometimes) teased him about it.
I don’t know for sure that he will remember our pinky promise
but I don’t know for sure that he won’t.

______

there are things your GPA is not going to help you with.

there are lessons that need to be taught to you by those half your height
(maybe in a classroom with seats too small for your frame)
there is knowledge dropped in locations unexpected
that you will only pick up on if you’re in those locations
and listening.
let us not be stubborn.
let us realize
education comes in a multitude of forms
and for me, mid march,
education came in very small packages,
in classrooms of kids
in candid clips of communication
in quotables like,
“greatness takes time” as a boy hovered above his mural tile,
planning but not yet painting
and in sadder stanzas like,
“your grownups must care more than mine care.”

there are things your GPA is not going to help you with.
there are lessons that need to be taught to you by those half your height.

________
at their core children are three things:
              genuine
                     honest
                              kind
they are not afraid to ask the tough stuff. the “weird” stuff. the real stuff.
that,
above all else,
is what i appreciate in them.

-&

Am I giving back or am I sharing with?

(context: these are about my time at Sheppard Elementary School in North Philadelphia helping muralist Sandra Gonzalez with a mural project in the school. a group of us worked with different classrooms of the elementary school students to help them paint tiles for the mural to be installed in their school)

People talk about service
as though it were one-sided
to serve, after all, comes from the word
Servusslave in Latin.
no one talks about how it is a give and take
or really
a not a give at all, just a share,
see,
at twenty-five revolutions around the sun
I know some things about some things
but the kids I met in Philly, most with merely a quarter
of revolutions as I,
know some things about some things I will never be unlucky enough to know
and have some perspective about some things I should really want to know.

‘ cause I didn’t grow up North Philly
or anywhere resembling it.
I grew up suburban,
I grew up four-bedroom, packed lunches, new clothes when I wanted them,
love notes, warm hugs, kind hearts when I needed them.
If I don’t think I have a thing or two to learn from youth less fortunate than I
then chances are, I have more than a thing or two to learn from somebody.

 

-&