In the Beginning

In the Beginning was the word, and the word was god
and the word was filtered through the tongues of man
blaming the fall of himself on a woman.
Now he fears his weakness for her.
Now she fears her strength may drive him out of her garden.
by Ghetto Girl Blue/Jessica Holter

Her Story

By: Natalie Stewart (formerly of Floetry)

Lady in Brown

Dark phrases of womanhood
of never havin been a girl
half-notes scattered
without rhythm/ no tune
distraught laughter fallin
over a black girl's shoulder
it's funny/it's hysterical
the melody-less-ness of her dance
don't tell nobody don't tell a soul
she's dancin on beer cans & shingles
by: Ntozake Shange

Is It Worth It?

Sure, I’ve lain with love.

I’ve enjoyed sweet moments and smiled with love.
Yes. Yes, I’ve snuggled up in the bed with love.
But is it worth it?
Come to find that soon – inevitably – after cuddling up with love you’ll one day find yourself sleeping
…with pain.

Pain.

Is it worth it?

(Question for you,)Love, are you worth it? Are you worth the tug in my chest? The sharp tug in my chest. Are you worth my tears. Are you worth the stress. Because I’ve yet to find my happy ending; my happily-ever –after, that which I keep reading in everyone else’s stories.

See
I’m stress-free
I’m bump-free
I’m happy
and smiling, all by my lonesome. But there’s something I keep witnessing in their eyes. A spark. A glimmer. A shine. And I’m jalou for it. Jealous. Envious. So when you come knocking, I open my door. And each time I say to myself, This is it. This is my happy ending.
No, never looking for a knight in shinning armor, but I’ve yet to find a MAN.

A man.
God-fearing, and unafraid of intimate affection. A man. Who is teaching, and loving, and giving.
Worth having.
No, instead, I keep attracting sorry-excuses. Seems I’m a magnet for brothahs who wanna Be. But never will. Because their own lack of true will. And my heart is tired.

Tired.
So tired of…happy beginnings and ugly endings. Weary of the introduction, climax, and the tragic endings. So perhaps I’ll remix it. Perhaps with the next, I’ll begin with the tragedy and work my way to a happy ending.

Perhaps…

By: Dorlette Pierre-Louis

Negro Folk song: Wild Negro Bill

I'se wild Nigger Bill
Frum Redpepper Hill.
I never did wo'k, an' I never will.

I'se done killed de Boss.
I'se knocked downde hoss.
I eats up raw goose widout apple sauce!

I'se Run-a-way Bill,
I knows dey mought kill;
But ole Mosser hain't cotch me, an' he never will

Part of an old folk song: Run, Nigger, Run!

Run, Nigger, run! De Patter-rollers'll ketch you.
Run, Nigger, run! It's almos day.

Dat Nigger run'd, dat Nigger flew,
Dat Nigger tore his shu't in two.

All over dem woods and frou de paster,
Dem Patter-rollers shot; but de Nigger git faster,

Oh, dat Nigger whirl'd, dat Nigger wheel'd,
Dat Nigger tore up de whole co'n field

Song: We Raise de Wheat

We raise de wheat,
Dey gib us de corn;
We bake de bread,
Dey bib us de crust;
We sif de meal,
Dey gib us de huss;
We peel de meat,
Dey gib us de skin;
And dat's de way
Dey take us in;
We skim de pot,
Dey gibusde liquor,
And say dat's good enough for nigger.


from Frederick Douglass'
My Bondage and My Freedom, 1853