for malik ameer
www.malikameer.com
1.
in some other lifetime
or galaxy
we led tribes of warriors
to write literary legacies together
soundbombing soul-sonnets
harnessing haikus to power
new forms unimagined
and i feel
the intimacy of that galaxy
and this one
imploding the earth
if we don't sort out
joint purpose:
we should be shaking the world
out of its sleep.
I somehow feel my solo tremor
will not have the same impact
so let us quake and quiver
as if it were
our first kiss
2.
whenever i remember you
i remember aspects
I don't think you show yourself
that beautiful, fuzzy shit
like your notebook-scribble
it disobeys boundaries
has its own style
is obvilious to any eyes
that might judge it
incorrectly
and my ears beg to hear
sanctified poetix
the imaginable wild-style
your smile makes
when happiness slips
out your eyes and into mine
3.
sometimes
when i'm alone
and wanting to be close
to some body
i can be silent with
someone who talks back
in sleep
and holds me
without touch
i think...
he is something other
we could be something other
i miss him
and I think to myself:
damn boy!
when you coming home?
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Friday, May 06, 2005
Thursday, May 05, 2005
This is what Tim'm's Brain Looks Like under Osun's Microscope
it is saturated in thoughts about love and devotion to memory and the search for love, happiness, fairness. so it sometimes journals... not organized thoughts that I could put in a book or article... but just random thoughts. that is what these blogs are for, right?
So today is Thursday. I just returned from a rally for "Campaign to End AIDS" in front of the White House (www.endaidsnow.org). Hundreds of AIDS activists(?) from around the nation met to drop off shoes in front of the white house as a symbolic gesture accounting for the countless number of people who've been lost to AIDS/HIV and an administration that perpetually turns its head away from the epidemic (e.g., no progressive policy to provided better resources to Africa, and a declining effort to assist prevention efforts here in the U.S.). It's pretty shameful... but today there were hundreds of people, most of the black folk (which made me happy, given the populations disproportionately affected/infected) chanting, mobilizing, angry, visible, many of them People Living with AIDS like me... and i felt, maybe there is some hope in these next 4 years that people will begin to "get up, stand up", nawmean? I was invited to speak, but instead I rhymed and did a singy thing. some looked confused cuz I was feelin my flow and some ears didn't seem to adjust from speeches to lyricism very easily... others seemed elated at the break from the traditonal speeches. I felt glad just to be there "representin'". It's been almost 6 years since I got the news that if I didn't get help I might not see 2005.
This protest/rally participation is all ironic, because I was recently quoted in the Washington Blade as saying I'm "too old to be angry"...
http://www.washblade.com/2005/4-29/arts/feature/revolution.cfm
and I don't know that I'm "too old" for anything, but being in my 30's has been somewhat of a journey towards realizing what affect I can have. Perhaps my idealism has waned a bit. Perhaps it has everything to do with becoming somewhat of a revolutionary protest child at 17 and for the next ten years prioritizing social struggle over personal ones. i took this picture in college at 19: bare-chested except for an AIDS ribbon; and with scrabble letters in front of me dispersed just enough to allude to the slurs "faggot" and "nigger"... and me holding my headache as a way of suggesting that both the struggles were too hard for any blackboy to bear. Well... most people at the time only commented that the image was powerful or that I had a nice chest... but looking at that picture now, I think I should have been having more fun back then. Not the philsopher-activist in route to iconic status.
Then ten years after 17 (almost to the day) you find out you've got AIDS... and for the first time in your life, you REALLY want to live... so it's been a bit tiring. Sometimes I feel like I have limited time to leave a legacy and that sand from the hourglass is not thick enough to hold my wait. Sometimes I'm content that my name will be remembered, and that people will remember me as loving, in spite of my being so busy... but mostly I feel that i have a lot more to do. I moved to DC cuz things got so heavy for me... so mental and calculated. I suppose I'm expected to find ways here to tap into my joy (that hopeful, romantic 16 year old energy that gets to be careless, spontaneous, drunk on life a bit).
I'm not a hopeless romantic anymore... I do believe people can make change, but I'm also less willing to put my body and energies on the front lines... I suppose I'm seeking some lightness, exchanging philosopy books for ESPN playoff games. I haven't enjoyed enough of my life... so yeah... this is a ramble-- little logic to what thread of thought will follow the next... but that's something I applaud. It would be like not making up my bed: a triumph denoting that order and overprocessing isn't such a healthy way to mask pain and chaos.
And maybe that's it. I'm unlearning the idea that learning more will make things less complicated (perhaps the contrary is more true). So if you see me out dancing looking spaced out... or smiling... or I forget your name, or grab your booty, congratulate me: I'm having fun. If I forget to say hi it's not shade... maybe I'm somewhere off in happy land... let me stay there for a moment and don't fuss. Remind me later that you saw me freestylin or singing on U street-- content with the arch of my "daddy-in-training" tummy, dreadlocks bouncin', thinkin of how to conjure out the next blues.
happiness these days has come in the form of a cat named Inky who entered my life with his wonderful owner (and my new roomate) Cenzo. They don't really demand a lot of me. I come in most days too exhausted to remember to even sit down and watch the Wizards blow a 20 pt lead (Inky hates the Wizards... or is that projection?). So i come home and stand... and they ask, usually with eyes, if I'm okay... and sometimes I don't lie: the eyes are heavy with thoughts about things that could be better (or worse). but I'm happy for them being in my life and letting me feel free enough to feel it all (even when I enter my room and shut the door).
and i'm happy for people like patrick who lets me be alone but kidnap him for an impromptu trip to baltimore... or men like joe who i love so much it hurts (though he doesn't seem to realize this)... or even the young man who will go unnamed here who I'm practically in love with but who cannot seem to bare the intensity of my fall. or my dear friend jamil who is just pure sweetness (though he's learning how to let his language reflect it. LOL)... or my "little brother" Ryan Canty who always looks out for me, though I have to little time to reciprocate the guy-dance. or my boyz DDC who are among the more talented, brilliant black men I know... or Michael Smith who has been the most consistent man in my life since I left home for college. or the boyz who will wonder why i didn't mention them. or the countless womyn who nurture, compliment, and whose softness curls the frown out of my brow (ingrid rivera you are beautiful. doria roberts... being around you is like being home).
i want more good things for myself... and the recognition of this (alone) is a step in the right direction. I can't do everything. I do too much. I don't make enough time for time. I can't carry other people's baggage even if my shoulders think they're strong enough to amass their stuff.
I went dancing last night...and it was really quite beautiful! I danced with a few handsome brothas... it was a rather old school party... brown brothas, deep house, some flirting, some eye-closed soul escapism while my feet guided my feeling and memory... and ultimately remembering there that whatever pains me about being on this here sometimes bitter earth, it still feels good to "feel"!
So today is Thursday. I just returned from a rally for "Campaign to End AIDS" in front of the White House (www.endaidsnow.org). Hundreds of AIDS activists(?) from around the nation met to drop off shoes in front of the white house as a symbolic gesture accounting for the countless number of people who've been lost to AIDS/HIV and an administration that perpetually turns its head away from the epidemic (e.g., no progressive policy to provided better resources to Africa, and a declining effort to assist prevention efforts here in the U.S.). It's pretty shameful... but today there were hundreds of people, most of the black folk (which made me happy, given the populations disproportionately affected/infected) chanting, mobilizing, angry, visible, many of them People Living with AIDS like me... and i felt, maybe there is some hope in these next 4 years that people will begin to "get up, stand up", nawmean? I was invited to speak, but instead I rhymed and did a singy thing. some looked confused cuz I was feelin my flow and some ears didn't seem to adjust from speeches to lyricism very easily... others seemed elated at the break from the traditonal speeches. I felt glad just to be there "representin'". It's been almost 6 years since I got the news that if I didn't get help I might not see 2005.
This protest/rally participation is all ironic, because I was recently quoted in the Washington Blade as saying I'm "too old to be angry"...
http://www.washblade.com/2005/4-29/arts/feature/revolution.cfm
and I don't know that I'm "too old" for anything, but being in my 30's has been somewhat of a journey towards realizing what affect I can have. Perhaps my idealism has waned a bit. Perhaps it has everything to do with becoming somewhat of a revolutionary protest child at 17 and for the next ten years prioritizing social struggle over personal ones. i took this picture in college at 19: bare-chested except for an AIDS ribbon; and with scrabble letters in front of me dispersed just enough to allude to the slurs "faggot" and "nigger"... and me holding my headache as a way of suggesting that both the struggles were too hard for any blackboy to bear. Well... most people at the time only commented that the image was powerful or that I had a nice chest... but looking at that picture now, I think I should have been having more fun back then. Not the philsopher-activist in route to iconic status.
Then ten years after 17 (almost to the day) you find out you've got AIDS... and for the first time in your life, you REALLY want to live... so it's been a bit tiring. Sometimes I feel like I have limited time to leave a legacy and that sand from the hourglass is not thick enough to hold my wait. Sometimes I'm content that my name will be remembered, and that people will remember me as loving, in spite of my being so busy... but mostly I feel that i have a lot more to do. I moved to DC cuz things got so heavy for me... so mental and calculated. I suppose I'm expected to find ways here to tap into my joy (that hopeful, romantic 16 year old energy that gets to be careless, spontaneous, drunk on life a bit).
I'm not a hopeless romantic anymore... I do believe people can make change, but I'm also less willing to put my body and energies on the front lines... I suppose I'm seeking some lightness, exchanging philosopy books for ESPN playoff games. I haven't enjoyed enough of my life... so yeah... this is a ramble-- little logic to what thread of thought will follow the next... but that's something I applaud. It would be like not making up my bed: a triumph denoting that order and overprocessing isn't such a healthy way to mask pain and chaos.
And maybe that's it. I'm unlearning the idea that learning more will make things less complicated (perhaps the contrary is more true). So if you see me out dancing looking spaced out... or smiling... or I forget your name, or grab your booty, congratulate me: I'm having fun. If I forget to say hi it's not shade... maybe I'm somewhere off in happy land... let me stay there for a moment and don't fuss. Remind me later that you saw me freestylin or singing on U street-- content with the arch of my "daddy-in-training" tummy, dreadlocks bouncin', thinkin of how to conjure out the next blues.
happiness these days has come in the form of a cat named Inky who entered my life with his wonderful owner (and my new roomate) Cenzo. They don't really demand a lot of me. I come in most days too exhausted to remember to even sit down and watch the Wizards blow a 20 pt lead (Inky hates the Wizards... or is that projection?). So i come home and stand... and they ask, usually with eyes, if I'm okay... and sometimes I don't lie: the eyes are heavy with thoughts about things that could be better (or worse). but I'm happy for them being in my life and letting me feel free enough to feel it all (even when I enter my room and shut the door).
and i'm happy for people like patrick who lets me be alone but kidnap him for an impromptu trip to baltimore... or men like joe who i love so much it hurts (though he doesn't seem to realize this)... or even the young man who will go unnamed here who I'm practically in love with but who cannot seem to bare the intensity of my fall. or my dear friend jamil who is just pure sweetness (though he's learning how to let his language reflect it. LOL)... or my "little brother" Ryan Canty who always looks out for me, though I have to little time to reciprocate the guy-dance. or my boyz DDC who are among the more talented, brilliant black men I know... or Michael Smith who has been the most consistent man in my life since I left home for college. or the boyz who will wonder why i didn't mention them. or the countless womyn who nurture, compliment, and whose softness curls the frown out of my brow (ingrid rivera you are beautiful. doria roberts... being around you is like being home).
i want more good things for myself... and the recognition of this (alone) is a step in the right direction. I can't do everything. I do too much. I don't make enough time for time. I can't carry other people's baggage even if my shoulders think they're strong enough to amass their stuff.
I went dancing last night...and it was really quite beautiful! I danced with a few handsome brothas... it was a rather old school party... brown brothas, deep house, some flirting, some eye-closed soul escapism while my feet guided my feeling and memory... and ultimately remembering there that whatever pains me about being on this here sometimes bitter earth, it still feels good to "feel"!
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