"grammas" poems - Hello Poetry

relaxing? relaxing would be a sin against myself. see God spun and wove golden bits of wisdom in these curls that are mine. see these curls spring loud with songs of my Nubian mothers and war cries of my Rasta fathers. see these curls bounce proud to the rhythm of tribal drums and the foot prints of my sisters from Manila reside there as they roll lumpia between the coils and springs. see these curls have moved sandstone bricks cross deserts, building divine architecture so perfectly aligned with cosmos and planets until Moses told Pharaoh to Let My People Go. these curls have traveled cross oceans and triangles packed like sardines squalid below the decks of ships. see these curls have been ***** by the nasty ***** in the big house and suffered sun strokes in cotton fields. see these curls sing loud and strong. See these curls were branded and forced at gunpoint behind ******** barbed wire fences gassed to death in the name of so called purification. see these curls bleed the pain of fire hoses and dog bites and whites only signs. see these curls wont back down gainst no burnin crosses gainst no swastikas gainst no elephant ******** talkin all that jazz on fox and cnn. see these curls dance wildly off beat to straight rhythms that drone on in 4/4 time c major sixty bpm. see these curls are Mas and my Grammas. see my curls are too proud to sit back and chill and won’t take no **** or heat or hot air. see these curls cannot be contained in braids or scarves or jars of creamy crack. see these curls dare you to force them to coerce them to straighten up their act. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls will not ******* relax.

0

Nov 30, 2012

Nov 30, 2012 at 12:03 PM UTC

curlie-fries-mcgee

soft and beautiful just for me

relaxing? relaxing would be a sin against myself. see God spun and wove golden bits of wisdom in these curls that are mine. see these curls spring loud with songs of my Nubian mothers and war cries of my Rasta fathers. see these curls bounce proud to the rhythm of tribal drums and the foot prints of my sisters from Manila reside there as they roll lumpia between the coils and springs. see these curls have moved sandstone bricks cross deserts, building divine architecture so perfectly aligned with cosmos and planets until Moses told Pharaoh to Let My People Go. these curls have traveled cross oceans and triangles packed like sardines squalid below the decks of ships. see these curls have been ***** by the nasty ***** in the big house and suffered sun strokes in cotton fields. see these curls sing loud and strong. See these curls were branded and forced at gunpoint behind ******** barbed wire fences gassed to death in the name of so called purification. see these curls bleed the pain of fire hoses and dog bites and whites only signs. see these curls wont back down gainst no burnin crosses gainst no swastikas gainst no elephant ******** talkin all that jazz on fox and cnn. see these curls dance wildly off beat to straight rhythms that drone on in 4/4 time c major sixty bpm. see these curls are Mas and my Grammas. see my curls are too proud to sit back and chill and won’t take no **** or heat or hot air. see these curls cannot be contained in braids or scarves or jars of creamy crack. see these curls dare you to force them to coerce them to straighten up their act. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls. my curls will not ******* relax.

27

Love, love, love It runs so deep like the roots of a tree Connecting together A flower attracting a bee Love, love, love Runs so deep Heals you and cleans you The way alcohol does a wounded knee Love, love, love You will see When my gramma looks at me Love, love, love smells so good My grammas baked goods My grammas pillow case My grammas hair And her whole face Love, love, love It's everywhere From the smile formed with her lips And the softness of her strong gramma hips To the apron that she wears And the so tantalizingly familier scent my mother shares Because Love, love, love Paves the way It will never lead you astray Love, love, love It runs so deep like the roots of a tree It is embedded in you the way it's embedded in me Love, love, love Has us entangled From the inside of beating hearts To the dirt under the earth.

0

May 27, 2016

May 27, 2016 at 9:14 AM UTC

sink

Grams

Love, love, love It runs so deep like the roots of a tree Connecting together A flower attracting a bee Love, love, love Runs so deep Heals you and cleans you The way alcohol does a wounded knee Love, love, love You will see When my gramma looks at me Love, love, love smells so good My grammas baked goods My grammas pillow case My grammas hair And her whole face Love, love, love It's everywhere From the smile formed with her lips And the softness of her strong gramma hips To the apron that she wears And the so tantalizingly familier scent my mother shares Because Love, love, love Paves the way It will never lead you astray Love, love, love It runs so deep like the roots of a tree It is embedded in you the way it's embedded in me Love, love, love Has us entangled From the inside of beating hearts To the dirt under the earth.

34

Sitting in our rental car, driving to the local lake to Blow up fireworks. Dad’s driving, sister and mom in the back. Good vibes been all around, but The Vapor's rising Such pride had been growin in my heart Wellin up like it hadn’t ever done Amazing how simply taking something toxic away Can make you appreciate the simple things so much more A couple nights before, I saw him start slippin No evidence needed, no smell and no sight I can see it in his eyes, darting back and forth Beedy, wide open eyes He needed it Gotta let your happiness swell up real big For the pain to rush so hard I thought this time was different I had given up a couple times before Didn’t ever want to feel this way again To feel shame for that which I come from I look at my hands My face My walk My smile My ****** hair All of my **** hair And I see him We wave our hands like the worlds about to blow And we need to tell the story right Before it does Sitting here at my grammas dining room table The fireworks have long since blown Getting ready to take the trip back home From Texas to Cali I can’t look at him It hurts Deep down in my belly To hear him talk and smile I don’t even need to look To know The smile is false And his eyes are beady But back to the rental car When I let it smack me in the belly I had seen it coming I knew it was rising But it took the turn of his head And that smell, and that smile For me to let it in The vapor rises out of that toxic pit he calls his belly (been cultivating it for years he says) They rise to dance as twisted lies from those large lips That reddened face I’ll be back at school soon Leaving San Diego behind I have to leave it rising To choke and overwhelm my family Feeling hopeless And the vapor keeps rising

0

Jan 2, 2014

Jan 2, 2014 at 3:10 PM UTC

steven-23

The Vapor's Rising

Sitting in our rental car, driving to the local lake to Blow up fireworks. Dad’s driving, sister and mom in the back. Good vibes been all around, but The Vapor's rising Such pride had been growin in my heart Wellin up like it hadn’t ever done Amazing how simply taking something toxic away Can make you appreciate the simple things so much more A couple nights before, I saw him start slippin No evidence needed, no smell and no sight I can see it in his eyes, darting back and forth Beedy, wide open eyes He needed it Gotta let your happiness swell up real big For the pain to rush so hard I thought this time was different I had given up a couple times before Didn’t ever want to feel this way again To feel shame for that which I come from I look at my hands My face My walk My smile My ****** hair All of my **** hair And I see him We wave our hands like the worlds about to blow And we need to tell the story right Before it does Sitting here at my grammas dining room table The fireworks have long since blown Getting ready to take the trip back home From Texas to Cali I can’t look at him It hurts Deep down in my belly To hear him talk and smile I don’t even need to look To know The smile is false And his eyes are beady But back to the rental car When I let it smack me in the belly I had seen it coming I knew it was rising But it took the turn of his head And that smell, and that smile For me to let it in The vapor rises out of that toxic pit he calls his belly (been cultivating it for years he says) They rise to dance as twisted lies from those large lips That reddened face I’ll be back at school soon Leaving San Diego behind I have to leave it rising To choke and overwhelm my family Feeling hopeless And the vapor keeps rising

62