“Marks” by Linda Pastan
My husband gives me an A
for last night’s supper,
an incomplete for my ironing,
a B plus in bed.
My son says I am average,
an average mother, but if
I put my mind to it
I could improve.
My daughter believes
in Pass/Fail and tells me
I pass. Wait ’til they learn
I’m dropping out.
“what the mirror said” by Lucille Clifton
listen,
you a wonder.
you a city
of a woman.
you got a geography
of your own.
listen,
somebody need a map
to understand you.
somebody need directions
to move around you.
listen,
woman,
you not a noplace
anonymous
girl;
mister with his hands on you
he got his hands on
some
damn
body!
The 23rd Psalm – King James Version
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
“alternate names for black boys” by Danez Smith
- smoke above the burning bush
- archnemesis of summer night
- first son of soil
- coal awaiting spark & wind
- guilty until proven dead
- oil heavy starlight
- monster until proven ghost
- gone
- phoenix who forgets to un-ash
- going, going, gone
- gods of shovels & black veils
- what once passed for kindling
- fireworks at dawn
- brilliant, shadow hued coral
- (I thought to leave this blank but who am I to name us nothing?)
- prayer who learned to bite & sprint
- a mother’s joy & clutched breath
“Universe is a House Party” by Tracy K Smith
The universe is expanding. Look: postcards
And panties, bottles with lipstick on the rim,
Orphan socks and napkins dried into knots.
Quickly, wordlessly, all of it whisked into file
With radio waves from a generation ago,
Drifting to the edge of what doesn’t end,
Like the air inside a balloon. Is it bright?
Will our eyes crimp shut? Is it molten, atomic,
A conflagration of suns? It sounds like the kind of party
Your neighbors forget to invite you to: bass throbbing
Through walls, and everyone thudding around drunk
On the roof. We grind lenses to an impossible strength,
Point them toward the future, and dream of beings
We’ll welcome with indefatigable hospitality:
How marvelous you’ve come! We won’t flinch
At the pinprick mouths, the nubbin limbs. We’ll rise,
Gracile, robust. Mi casa es su casa. Never more sincere.
Seeing us, they’ll know exactly what we mean.
“When Death Comes” by Mary Oliver
When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse
to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox
when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
When it’s over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world
“Hatred” by Wisława Szymborska
See how efficient it still is,
how it keeps itself in shape—
our century’s hatred.
How easily it vaults the tallest obstacles.
How rapidly it pounces, tracks us down.
It’s not like other feelings.
At once both older and younger.
It gives birth itself to the reasons
that give it life.
When it sleeps, it’s never eternal rest.
And sleeplessness won’t sap its strength; it feeds it.
One religion or another –
whatever gets it ready, in position.
One fatherland or another –
whatever helps it get a running start.
Justice also works well at the outset
until hate gets its own momentum going.
Hatred. Hatred.
Its face twisted in a grimace
of erotic ecstasy…
Oh these other feelings, listless weaklings.
Since when does brotherhood draw crowds?
Has compassion ever finished first?
Does doubt ever really rouse the rabble?
Only hatred has just what it takes.
Gifted, diligent, hard-working.
Need we mention all the songs it has composed?
All the pages it has added to our history books?
All the human carpets it has spread
over countless city squares and football fields?
Let’s face it:
it knows how to make beauty.
The splendid fire-glow in midnight skies.
Magnificent bursting bombs in rosy dawns.
You can’t deny the inspiring pathos of ruins
and a certain bawdy humor to be found
in the sturdy column jutting from their midst.
Hatred is a master of contrast-
between explosions and dead quiet,
red blood and white snow.
Above all, it never tires
of its leitmotif – the impeccable executioner
towering over its soiled victim.
It’s always ready for new challenges.
If it has to wait awhile, it will.
They say it’s blind. Blind?
It has a sniper’s keen sight
and gazes unflinchingly at the future
as only it can.
Sylvia Plath – “Mirror” (1961)
I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful ‚
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.
Common “I Used to Love H.E.R.” (1994)
[Hook]
Yes, yes, y’all and you don’t stop
To the beat y’all and you don’t stop
Yes yes, y’all and you don’t stop
1, 2, y’all and you don’t stop
Yes, yes, y’all and you don’t stop
And to the beat Com Sense’ll be the sure shot, come on
I met this girl, when I was ten years old
And what I loved most she had so much soul
She was old school, when I was just a shorty
Never knew throughout my life she would be there for me
On the regular, not a church girl she was secular
Not about the money, those studs was mic checkin’ her
But I respected her, she hit me in the heart
A few New York niggas, had did her in the park
But she was there for me, and I was there for her
Pull out a chair for her, turn on the air for her
And just cool out, cool out and listen to her
Sittin’ on a bone, wishin’ that I could do her
Eventually if it was meant to be, then it would be
Cause we related, physically and mentally
And she was fun then, I’d be geeked when she’d come around
Slim was fresh yo, when she was underground
Original, pure, untampered, a down sister
Boy I tell ya, I miss her
Now periodically I would see
Ol’ girl at the clubs, and at the house parties
She didn’t have a body, but she started gettin’ thick quick
Did a couple of videos and became Afrocentric
Out goes the weave, in goes the braids beads medallions
She was on that tip about stoppin’ the violence
About my people she was teachin’ me, by not preaching to me
But speaking to me in a method that was leisurely
So easily I approach
She dug my rap, that’s how we got close
But then she broke to the West Coast, and that was cool
Cause around the same time, I went away to school
And I’m a man of expanding, so why should I stand in her way
She probably get her money in L.A
And she did stud, she got big pub but what was foul
She said that the pro-black, was going out of style
She said, Afrocentricity, was of the past
So she got into R&B, hip-house, bass, and jazz
Now black music is black music and it’s all good
I wasn’t salty; she was with the boys in the hood
Cause that was good for her, she was becoming well rounded
I thought it was dope how she was on that freestyle shit
Just having fun, not worried about anyone
And you could tell by how her titties hung
I might’ve failed to mention that this chick was creative
Once the man got to her, he altered her native
Told her if she got an image and a gimmick
That she could make money, and she did it like a dummy
Now I see her in commercials, she’s universal
She used to only swing it with the inner-city circle
Now she be in the burbs, looking rock and dressin’ hippie
And on some dumb shit, when she comes to the city
Talking about popping Glocks serving rocks and hittin’ switches
Now she’s a gangsta rolling with gangsta bitches
Always smoking blunts and getting drunk
Telling me sad stories, now she only fucks with the funk
Stressin’ how hardcore and “real” she is
She was really the realest, before she got into showbiz
I did her, not just to say that I did it
But I’m committed (giiirl, he’s committed), but so many niggas hit it
That she’s just not the same letting all these groupies do her
I see niggas slammin’ her, and taking her to the sewer
But I’ma take her back hoping that the shit stop
Cause who I’m talking ‘bout, y’all, is hip-hop
Nas – “I Gave You Power” (1996)
Damn, look how muh-fuckers use a nigga
Just use me for whatever the fuck they want
I don’t get to say shit
Just grab me, just do what the fuck they want
Sell me, throw me away
Niggas just don’t give a fuck about a nigga like me right
Like I’m a f-, I’m a gun, shit
It’s like I’m a motherfucking gun
I can’t believe this shit
Word up, word up
I seen some cold nights and bloody days
They grab me and bullets spray
They use me wrong so I sing this song til this day
My body is cold steel for real
I was made to kill, that’s why they keep me concealed
Under car seats they sneak me in clubs
Been in the hands of mad thugs
They feed me when they load me with mad slugs
Seventeen precisely, one in my head
They call me Desert Eagle, semi-auto with lead
I’m seven inches four pounds, been through so many towns
Ohio to Little Rock to Canarsie, living harshly
Beat up and battered they pull me out
I watch as niggas scattered, making me kill
But what I feel it never mattered
When I’m empty I’m quiet, finding myself fiending to be fired
A broken safety, niggas place me in shelves
Under beds so I beg for my next owner to be a thoroughbred
Keep me full up with hollow heads
How you like me now, I go blaow
It’s that shit that moves crowds making every ghetto foul
I might have took your first child
Scarred your life, crippled your style
I gave you power, I made you buckwild
Always I’m in some shit
My abdomen is the clip, the barrel is my dick uncircumcised
Pull my skin back and cock me
I bust off when they unlock me
Results of what happens to niggas shock me
I see niggas bleeding running from me in fear, stunningly tears
Fall down the eyes of these so-called tough guys, for years
I’ve been used in robberies, giving niggas heart to follow me
Placing peoples in graves, funerals made cause I was sprayed
I was laid in a shelf, with a grenade
Met a wrecked-up Tec with numbers on his chest that say
Five-two-oh-nine-three-eight-five and zero
Had a serial defaced, hoping one day police would place
Where he came from, a name or some sort of person to claim him
Tired of murdering, made him wanna be a plain gun
But yo, I had some other plans like the next time the beef is on
I make myself jam right in my owner’s hand
Yo, weeks went by and I’m surprised
Still stuck in the shelf with all the things that an outlaw hides
Besides me it’s bullets, two vests and then a nine
There’s a grenade in a box, and that Tec that kept crying
Cause he ain’t been cleaned in a year he’s rusty, it’s clear
He’s bout to fall to pieces cause of his murder career
Yo I can hear somebody coming in, open the shelf
His eyes bubbling, he said it was on
I felt his palm troubled him shaking
Somebody stomped him out, his dome was aching
He placed me on his waist, the moment I’ve been waiting
My creation was for Blacks to kill Blacks
It’s gats like me that accidentally go off, making niggas memories
But this time, it’s done intentionally
He walked me outside, saw this cat
Cocked me back, said, “Remember me?”
He pulled the trigger but I held on, it felt wrong
Knowing niggas is waiting in hell for him
He squeezed harder, I didn’t budge, sick of the blood
Sick of the thugs, sick of wrath of the next man’s grudge
What the other kid did was pull out, no doubt
A newer me in better shape, before he lit out, he lead the chase
My owner fell to the floor his wig split so fast
I didn’t know he was hit, it’s over with
Heard mad niggas screaming, niggas running, cops is coming
Now I’m happy, until I felt somebody else grab me, damn.
Lil Wayne Comparison Collection
• “I plant my seed in her garden and now she root for me”
• “I give her bottle water bitch break out sweatin, and then she get straight to the head like a fuckin Excedrin”
• “Feet hangin out the window, jock my shoe game. Cause all my kicks fly like Liu Kang”
• “Like a circle of knives, I got the sharpest flow around”
• “Put the dick in their mouth so I guess it’s fuck what they say”
• “Swagger just dumb, call it Sarah Palin. If you niggas fly then I must be parasailin”
• “Mind so sharp I fuck around and cut my head off”
• “Just dropped my best shit like the Cowboys dropped Owens”
• “I must be sticky cause them bitches got their eyes glued”
• “You know I’m gon score like Deion after picks”
• “If these niggas animals then I’mma have a mink soon”
• “Dear Mr. Toilet, I’m the shit…….Got these other haters pissed, cause my toiler paper thick”
• “Real shit I’m duckin bombs from a drug war. No religion, but the cops swear that I’m a drug lord”
• “I’m a pill poppin animal, syrup sippin nigga….I’m so high you couldn’t reach me with a fuckin antenna”
• “Shots through the driver side, that means the driver died. Car crash, kill the passenger – double homicide”
• “I’m a beast, I’m a dog, I should rap with a muzzle…….Peyton Manning flow, I just go no huddle”
• “Keep it dirty like I’m lyin’ in a ditch……Like Eli I’m from New Orleans but I’m a Giant in this bitch”
Street Poetry 