Three of these poems were written to be performed at poetry events held by Justice, Unity & Social Transformation in the name of Donovan Lewis, an artist and black man killed by Columbus Police while a warrant was being served in the middle of the night. The last poem was crafted after the police lynching of Tyre Nichols in Memphis Tenseness, with the murder of Donovan still on my mind as I had been part of an organization, JUST, fighting to get justice for Donovan’s family. It was especially haunting as at the same time I was fighting two cases related to organizing against state & police violence and had slept through a court date, earning myself a warrant in my home county. When the video of Tyre Nichols death sprung across the internet I was at work, I took time to reflect on my role in scenes for liberation and how my irreverent spirit will be portrayed when I no longer have the autonomy to be. One thing to remember is few people are special. Every death through state violence that is recorded and sparked outrage becomes a public spectacle. The oppressed body cannot have autonomy over their commodification. Even in a movement for liberation where spirits can flare and fires are born through struggle, the images are to be consumed, even in death.
I still ash on the floor when I’m alone,
Or altered enough to feel the weightlessness of community and chaos engaging.
It’s like a hometown hero once said,
about the companionship of love & rage,
How they interlock with that need to protect.
But what am I really protecting with these poems?
How many bodies have been bagged by the time I read this.
How many torn?
How much time has been lost invested in this pen?
Man I Can’t stop seething, I’m getting indignant!
I don’t think I like our next move.
I want to kill through the pen.
I mean a couple bullets and a plan would leave me on a T-shirt anyway. So
How do we stay true to passion when the violence doesn't end?
Who’s to blame when the fires spread?
If the fuel was on a constant flow
and the Pyros had no nation.
Who are you going to call to extradite them?
Truly it is a silly question. See
The occupation built cages that kill all types of birds.
And the people are so immersed in the last last tragedy
They too scared to move onto the next.
but catch a breath youngen
there is no foundation without your hammer.
No collective furry of expansion.
gotta find your self in these moments,
remember why we stay in these streets,
getting the feeling we wont be so alone the next time around.
It’s going to get cloudy soon and
hope the nighttime winds permit us to sleep tight
Cuz we got moves to make to keep this fire lit.
No smoke going to replace the clouds but still
it'll fog your vision so you better stay in check.
mama don’t say sorry when they strike your cheek no more.
Cuz we’ve known better
stay low, stay close.
then take flight.
Let passions embrace your figure.
Be good to the materiel and you might find something resembling stability,
But It's not free,
Never has been
we have not stopped trembling yet
I found my refuge in the soil,
Sung with the choir of the tormented souls
Swelling with the jubilee of our convening.
Let the roots of Babylon drive into me,
An unstoppable force of delirium
found my love comparable to obedience.
Figured my rage incompatible,
we have not stopped trembling, see
I come from the old growth,
trunks that threatened to sink the horizon.
Found my lineage at the bottom of the seas,
Suffocating on the same loveless barnacles of Today
Conversed purpose with Balagoon
We are here to nurture the seed & our soil.
the goal of this science is to be conscious
How is love comparable to obedience?
See the passion of my being is alchemy!
I spread fire with my comparisons
no degradation goes beyond freedom in the heart of the reconstructed
I pray our rage inspires love.
Intention that gives breath
to the warmth in my eyes,
Grounds my roots in our spirit
We have not stopped trembling yet.
But we cultivated a resistance,
The visionaries found the horizons
Will you dive beyond the abyss,
Into a transformed tomorrow?
Don’t stand behind me
Take my hand
We will jump together.
Is the world gonna watch me die?
I know they’ll watch when I get arrested,
hell some clapped!
Some came to support the cause,
had me swallowed in thank yous
some attempted an encore.
but what they gonna do when I die,
how many precincts are left standing?
was I enough?
how many gonna feel the need to watch to the end
I mean I don’t at this point
I haven’t the resources to live liberty.
and after another I can’t breath & Please...help
I got nothing but a plan to put this movement on the map
but who’s map really,
will 1800 dead pigs put you on.
“We have not stopped trembling yet”
These words from the late James Baldwin written in the 1960’s ring true today. They are a reminder we are out organized. A reminder that the oppressed are still under the boot of those with power. Those with capital, whether social or economic, influence legislation, economics and enforcement. While power can be seen as a corrupting force, it is the concentration and centralization of power that does us in as a society. The breadth of abuse and domination are constant forces in our journey for autonomy. Those who have continued this tradition of power centralizing can be rebelled against, they always have been and will continue to be. The commodification of our existence is something we can only dream and fight to control. Such social alienation is a direct product of a lack of direct democracy, anti-authoritarianism, horizontalism and socialist governance in the lands dominated by Amerika.
In the rampage for profit my body, my will, my desires, my being is another resource to be extracted. Like many revolutionaries of my creed I have spent many efforts divorcing such a resource toward the colonial and capitalist machine, but as long as my subsistence relies on production dependent on exploitation, I can never declare freedom. Apart of me is a dreamer, a poet. Another a guerilla, a necessary force of insurrection that demands nothing, but creates all. All together I will continue to grow as another one of your neighbors on this land, driven to expand the definition of collective struggle towards liberation.