Thursday, February 23, 2006

29 hours and counting

honestly

i haven't slept since yesterday this time. i tried to take a nap around 5pm, but that didn't work out so well, as i had a meeting at a upscale liquour company. something about poetry and alcohol -- i always get the goods. (shout to shihan for the look out).

but here's the funny, but not so, funny ish: i had to write a poem that fit the theme. as, i am more of a depressing person than preacher type. so after i received the go ahead at midnight, during the last round of the nuyorican slam, i headed home in a storm. upset. frustrated. tired. defensive.

but i did it. made myself smile a couple of times between the sips of old coffee and watching him sleep. he tried to stay up with me. that's how we roll. if someone is under pressure - the other holds down the bed... lol -- but i finished it. at 445am i called the dude for creative approval and listened to him hold his breath "you are amazing". he expounded. i sighed. not happiness. not satisfaction. not even relief -- but some sort of despair.

i dont know if it was my pride or integrity tapping at conscience. that's prolly what kept me up all night. thinking - is this something that i would really repeat... so i went back and did more editing. more typing. more printing. no ink. no sleep. no sleep. finally finished. i held a bigger smile this time. feeling like a part of me was still very whole and connected again. like this life of a poet wasn't as bad as i thought. like - this is what i live for. these moments, when no one but i and my pen can type out an amazing piece of work to represent the artform right. represent women and black artists. and i felt so good. so good that i fell into a nap that would be interrupted by him waking me up and saying "u betta go, ma".

so i went. and i was proud that it was a poet being paid to write poetry and recite poetry and live poetry; instead of "someone" writing a "poem" for an "actor" to act like they think a "poet" would "act" when reciting a two-minute diatribe of assimilated mush for the masses.

i promise, i made ya'll proud.

word

2 comments:

Shelle said...

u r an amazing poet mo...still inspiring my lil girl. poetry is a gift and a curse ya know, revolutionary and haunting. bitter and sweet.
glad u r one of the true ones

taylor said...

you always do.