office party draft (9/30)

Writing a poem
While at a co-workers
“I found a better job than what y’all got”party
Because you aren’t sure what
Or how to be you without causing the room
to become one Gray painted wall.
Is awkward.

You aren’t that interesting.
You do not have impressive stories to share
No funny jokes to tell
And you’re drink
Loves you more than
Your wallet has in a long long time.

But it’s Wednesday
Maybe in a day or so
You’ll accumulate precious
drama for the birds to chew.
Maybe one day you’ll be more than a poet.

And you won’t need to hide in your notebook
From the fun.

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  • #napowrimo14 #napowrimo #30/30 #poetry #spokenword #spilledink
  • 3 days ago
  • 1

#whatkindofblackareyou (draft) (8/30)

the kind that just am.
thinks least about being.
does what comes naturally
and rolls off tongue like
breath.

walks hips like
hips demand to be
walked

wears hair like hair wants
to be worn: Loud and alive
and tough like the bones
my great great great grandmother
whispered into this body

like all the fight that sprouts
out of this forest of history:
I carry in my fingers.
in my laughter
in my passa passa
and play time
and slumber.

I am the kind of black
that dances with no music.

the kind that
says “ain’t” because “is” don’t
have enough spirit to it.

because this loud ain’t nothing to be
ashamed of`

because slang sometimes/
always be just what your
ears want/need….and
you’re welcome.

And I did that.
And I am.
No apologies.
No afterthought.

I am fresh air with no effort.
The heat of this earth finds me
and asks me what I’m here for.

I smile back
and remind it that
black can handle
any kitchen.

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  • #black #spoken word #poetry #30/30 #napowrimo #napowrimo14 #lit
  • 6 days ago

I am. (7/30)

I am the something be new.
I am the happen of chance.

I am the otherwise should have been
but ain’t cuz too busy God was
with making this Rashawna of me.
beautiful.

with making me his.
claiming all sphere round
gravity and worldwide
space of me.

All the dry
and wet of tongue
and smile and tears
and fingers of me…
his.

He called out “daughter”
and I answered.
and yet still am not
sure what to say

Not sure how to not
re-learn this flesh.
How to not un-become.
How to be just this and
not my enemy

my legs sometimes
forget they ain’t just
s’posed to lay there

Sometimes they do all the
remembering for me.
they remember all the galaxies
ago, all the mondays

when I thought I would
never be nothing
when I was nothing
but a body.
and a quick lay.
and a “not yet”

When I didn’t know who I love
and what I be.
Cuz being is the
hardest thing to do
when doing works
against you like
wind trying to
be rid of itself.

I am forever finding my body
turning to face the past like
an open door.

There is always temptation
to become a rotting frown
again.

But God be too busy
with this girl of me
in me and around me.

Got all thoughts beckoning
his mercy like a hungry cub
waiting to feed on the forever joy
and the something new.

I be a something new.
A happen of chance.

An otherwise should
have been.

(c) 2014 Rashawna Wilson

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  • #poetry #napowrimo #spoken word #lit #30/30 #God #life #me #self
  • 1 week ago

freewrite about a boy. (6/30)

So what am I supposed to do with him
Anyway?
He’s like a sun
And my arms are the sky
Closing in like blackbirds
Squeezing all the him out of him
Telling him how to love me
And not even wanting that love.
Not knowing how to want it.
Not really knowing I don’t know.
Except when I am windstorm and fire
Fighting his red house brick by brick
And i hear the whisper of my chest
Ask me what the hell I am doing?

And I have no answer
Isn’t this how it’s supposed to feel?
I am unsure of my abilities
I break words often
I tiptoeing around myself,
Afraid that I will be more monster than liberty in the end.

Anyhow, he loves me endlessly
He with his hesitant fingers
Has held me like a dream
Once or twice.
Placed me in his cupboard and
Let me rest.
Just seems like he knows what he’s doing…
Or tries to know how to be good to me
He’s like a sun, y’know?
A really big light that
shines all over my life
And I don’t know how
to deserve that.

©Rashawna Wilson 2014

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  • #poetry #napowrimo #3030
  • 1 week ago

Most Days (5/30)

Most days I do not recognize myself.
I have passed myself by on train platforms, and sidewalks, and home…
Overlooking my bookbag and curve of body for just another big girl with too much in her hands.

today I did.
Standing on the train platform
Teeth buck and eyes small from wondering was a girl too tied around her own finger to fly.
She had too much lipstick and too much frown but not enough of anything that could get her off the ground.

I shook my head.
All these 25 years and she still don’t get it.
Still don’t understand that the heavy load don’t need to travel with her.
That it is unraveling her from sores to tears to teeth gritting to a coldness that wants no freedom from itself.
That wants nothing more but to be bitter…
Too bitter to listen to the whistling hands of time telling her that it’s okay to let go.
It’s okay to grow.
To breathe
to just be sometimes.
And she cannot fix it all.
And remember God?
He has not gone anywhere.
Though she is used to a revolving door of empty promises and pointing fingers,
His hand has not wavered.
It demands her. Demands that she come and find freedom.

I think all of this in the distance.
I do not say a thing.
I just turn around and leave
holding my head down
Glazing past the loud voices
as fast I can
Until I am outside and away from
The thick of my presence.

I walk.
And the bag I am carrying is so heavy.
And I do not remember what I said to me.
I do not even see when the sidewalk opens up like hungry teeth.
Pulling me into a crowd of “me’s”
All of us unaware
And too busy to look up and be found.

© 2014 Rashawna Wilson

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  • #napowrimo #poetry #poem #amwriting #lit #spilled ink #3030 #3030challenge #napowrimo14
  • 2 weeks ago
  • 1

Broken Body Beautiful (6/30)

I was 12
When a man, 50,
Told me that if he could, he would have his way with me.

And it felt as though he already was having me
As if I now belonged to him.
As if his eyes
Were fingers
undressing me
And I was just a KFC deal…
Just leg and thigh
and breast and cheap.

His words touched my skin
And it made me sick inside.
Made my chest feel like stone
Made my lips a clenched fist ready to bruise.
Ready to defend and protect and convict him…
But I only smiled,
turned my face away from his snake eyes and rotund body and hoped he would
disappear forever.
I did not yell
I did not tell my mother.
I wasn’t sure of who I should have blamed anyhow.

But my body
Protruding out of my clothes.
Felt like a burden of regret.
Felt like something I should have been sorry for.

I am a woman now.
And my heart is now a mountain praying to be a mustard seed..
Praying to God for the residue of my past to fade away for good
I have let men feast on me. Own me.
Let them make me a fantasy in exchange for love, in exchange for not being
alone, in exchange for wounds to old lick
Though I do try still
In fact, I have gained many lbs of try
carrying all of my mistakes into this year, only to see them abandon me;
tired of me always asking them questions they cannot answer.

I know one thing.
I am not a regret or mistake.
I have danced a night away.
I have extended my hips to rhythms that called me home
I have been a home and found one.
I have been kissed by lips honest and safe.
I have been embraced by arms and they
Have held me like the good China.
Like kids hold their parents love
This body has felt love
This body has keeled over in laughter
Has shot out sounds I didnt even know it had
for joy can be unexpectedly beautiful
This body is beautiful
Is flawed and full of story
And beautiful still.
And it belongs to me.
It is my most prized possession
And I will not be sorry
For any of it.

.

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  • #spilledink #3030 #napowrimo #napowrimo14 #poetry
  • 2 weeks ago
  • 3

But God (4/30)

But God is the only waiting
Room worth sitting in.
He is entrance
and remedy
and home.

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  • #God #napowrimo #3030 #poetry #writing #spilledink
  • 2 weeks ago
  • 5

Meanwhile

While the naysayers
question if truth is true.

Truth on His throne
shouts
who are you?

Rashawna

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  • #truth #napowrimo #God #life #questions #poetry #lit #spilled ink
  • 2 weeks ago
  • 1

Rashawna (3/30)

My name means
shining light.

A remembering of God.
A symbol of spring.

A truth for
Which there are no doors
No pits
No clouds big enough to
Hide.

My rays are plus-sized.
Stretching out like train lines
Like fingers grabbing
For other fingers

Like downstream rivers.
I travel
through galaxy
and stardust
and dark night
to claim love-real
to conquer home

to spread my blaze
across the clear sky

Call me new.
Call me a thousand giggles
of glory

I am the morning.
Imago Dei sprouts
from underneath my lungs.

I am traveling upon the surface
of life’s waters…

an unclouded brilliance.

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  • #spilled ink #napowrimo #napowrimo14 #lit #poetry #God #writing #Christian #name #me #Jesus #imago dei
  • 2 weeks ago
  • 3

Path (2/30)

After much
toil,
we see an opening,

a shivering light
peeking upon our
gray and bruised
fingers,

glinting our blinking eyes
and sore mouths;
piercing the marrow of our bones
with its hope

we are almost found.

it calls to us like
the sun calls the shore.

It knows our name.
And like a distant lover
It beckons us
to keep fighting
to keep pillaring
through the dross
til we taste its kiss.

til we conquer
this tomb.

til we vanish in
its freedom.


Rashawna Wilson

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  • #lit #napowrimo #napowrimo14 #poetry #spilledink #30/30 #30/30 challenge #writing #english #hope #life #death #love #work #fight
  • 2 weeks ago
  • 1
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