Friday, March 30, 2007

unfucking believable

This is long and I'm pissed, get a snack, and some coffee.

so last night i was supposed to be a featured performer at Jazzman's Cafe on the Morehouse campus. The program was to address the issues between Spelman and Morehouse and was sponsored by Men Stopping Violence. Very cool and I was honored to be asked to use my voice to speak out against violence against women and the misogyny that runs ramped.
This was the first event that this brother had organized so I knew there might be bumps. Turns out he didn't secure a spot in the show that already happens at this venue. OK
The young man hosting the event refused to give up a block of time for Men Stopping Violence. OK
Our feature turned into signing up on the open mic list. OK
So basically I would be paid to read one poem..OK
Phoenix Y Z and I arrived at 7pm for a show that began at 7:30 that really didn't start until almost 8:30. OK

When we arrived I realized that the young man hosting this show was the same young man who came in last at the Art Amok slam last weekend.I have worked with him before but he never remembers me. He won't have that problem again.
I have a theory about clicky spots, and If I know the spot tends to be clicky I don't mind it can be entertaining at times. Our names are being pushed down the list. For a moment I think is he pissed because he didn't win? Is he doing this cause he's piss that this other group tried to insert themselves?

The third poet up is a young man who came in second at our slam. He gets on the mic and says he was in the bogus slam last weekend, and he lost to a white girl who did a poem about breezes blowing across the earth and under her bed. He butchers her name quite on purpose. Proceeds to tell the crowd of more than 80 folks not to support Art Amok because we are racist and not down with the black man. That he knows he should have won the 50 dollars and the all-expense paid trip to Austin(what? no fucking body rides for free)? They gave me some CD and a book talkin bout how its so good book by patty somebody. That he was going to do the same piece he did then and they tell him if he should have won. He proceeds to do his piece. as misogynistic as it was they loved it.

I am pissed.
Then the host gets all embolden and says yeah, can the crowd believe that he came in last and they even forgot to say my name. Don't support wack poetry spots. Don't support Art Amok. Pho and I are livid. Two more poets go. I seethe. They call my name. I get on the mic.

I say, You know brother I apologized to you when I didn't say your name in the right order at the slam.
His mouth gapes,"That was you?"

"Yes,(in the mic) I was in drag and I am aware that I make a damn good looking man but that was me, I am Theresa Davis the (I took liberties here for effect) captain of the 2006 Art Amok Slam Team. I stand her(I look at my skin) black so I don't think the conspiracy theory holds. Slams are random and the venue has nothing to do with the scores you received from the judges. Brother who came in second you told a great story you left out some details, the most major being that at no time was an all expense anything promised, the book I gave you was by Patricia Smith a damn near legendary slam poet, you didn't lose based on the judges you could have won had it not been for the time penalty. There are rules in slam those being poems must be 3 minutes, the poem is too long for slam, and if you chose to let the judging of five random people dictate the worth of your words, you ego is not suited for slam. It's a game and if you don't know the rules maybe you shouldn't play. Judges, judge based on content, style and performance, I am a slam poet."

I get back on the topic of Men Stopping Violence. Talk about the different kinds of violence including verbal for the sour poets. Then I step away from the mic and proceed to slam the shit out of Lepidoptery. I have never performed that piece like that. The noisy coffee house was dead silent except for the sound on my big ass mouth. The line "can you trust a system fearful of butterflies" directed at the host. His mouth still gaping. The crowd erupts at the end. My parting word don't believe the hype come check Art Amok out for yourself, form your own opinions!

Pho goes after me. She explains how she was supposed to be here for this because if someone had told her that another poet would diss the venue like that she wouldn't have believed them.She can only imagine what was said at The Apache when he (the 2nd place dude is the host at that venue) was freshly pissed that he didn't win. Blasted them for putting down the women who organize and work hard for Art Amok and the irony of us being there to speak on the topic of misogyny. She nails her piece.

Then we do what I never do. We get our cash, blatantly pick up our shit, and leave. The host trying to recover as we are leaving, yes he sees us, trips over his tongue and knocks over the mic.....something about knowing you are wrong..let's call it Karma.

Coffee $ 3.75

1 Poem $ 75.00

Calling motherfuckers out as liars in their own spot at their own mic AND proving them to be the self absorbed, ego-maniacal , assholes that they are in the process.....priceless!

Thursday, March 22, 2007


so you know how i have this fear of stuff hauling stuff
my near misses
death by chirstmas tree
death by port - o - potty
" by matress and washer dryer combo
when i saw this i was so glad i wasn't behind it
i have never seen a marta train hauled in this manner

Monday, March 19, 2007

well at least we get a pool??

So this was the view this morning!!

And at that very moment, we heard a loud whack!
From outside in the fields came a sickening smack
Of an axe on a tree. Then we heard the tree fall.
The very last Truffula Tree of them all!

Sunday, March 11, 2007

in progress

there must be a way of making
the transitions smoother
experiences more pleasant
my life as this women
with pains and delight
events that dance
through my psyche sugary sweet
or leave me wiping de ja vu tears
of drowning sorrow
wet faced remembering the present

losing my virginity
not at all what is was built up to be
took three tries to find my rhythm
only to switch dj’s in my thirties

a car accident in the third trimester
with my second child
rear view mirror terror
struck from behind
i saw it coming
warned my passengers of the pending impact
twisting my roundness to grip my first
in her piece of shit car seat
the gnashing of metal
fingernails on chalkboard
my belly ate the steering wheel
my first slips
slides under the seat
car still in motion
belly lodged
i grab her up
remove a French fry from her hair
deposit her in my sister’s lap
she sitting shotgun
they screaming in unison
before the car stopped
seat belt disengaged
rage filled tears
throwing open his door
my words yelled slurs
he takes in my form
his cell phone the size of a block of cheese
falls to the street
the call dropped for sure
he reaches for me
i watch the clouds

this memory always
brings a hand to my belly
tattooed wheel marks
replaced by the kind that stretch
a now empty vessel
a womb once invaded by renegade cells
a residual memory where my children once lived
a long lost x ray
film you don’t want developed
a piece of my puzzle
slips out of place to complete
a picture of me
this woman in this life

i’m here again
familiar surroundings
again hearing the tale of marauding cells
that seems to have retreated, regrouped
found a new battle field
cleverly disguised as my left breast
a war not confirmed
cold harsh instruments seeking
malignant masses
poked prodded
another piece of me under threat

they tell me no battle is raging
within the flesh amour
holding in the ribs
that wrap my heart
for now they add
as seriously as
a backwards glance
i never want to be here again
six months from now
i’ll have no choice
i will make my transition smoother
for if peace talks fail
and the war begins
hand over my left breast
following the heart beat within
i’ll be ready to fight

Monday, March 05, 2007

this shit is funny

This is the video that dead presidents is linked to on you tube. ha!

Wild Women

mom and i

finally i decompress.

what a weekend!

i spent it doing what i love surrounded by the folks i love.

poetry and karen g, ami mattison, collin kelley, rage, vagina jenkins, stacie b, pho yz, heather, mom and the finale with miss doria (fine-ass) roberts!

who needs sleep?

me actually and lots of it.

Sunday, March 04, 2007


the thread stretched
near the breaking point
i've been here before
hell i live here
my strings always taut
stretched and stretched
leave marks on my body
adds a swagger to my step
implying a guttural coolness
cause saying you're tired is too cliche
i can do this
spread thin
i won't stick to bones
this mask around my eyes
the bandit
stealing my time and
i don't want it back
i want to get it all done
now and lotus position my way
back to myself
stretching like the minutes
that pass too quickly
the days that should come with meters
so i can drop my pennies to add
more time
and time again creeps me into submission
my kingdom for a pillow
my crown for comfort
i can do this
it's what we do
we women
we mothers
we keep it going
cause who else is going to do it
eyes heavy with accomplishment
my reward
the looks on their faces
baptized by their gratitude
falling backwards into love
pouring down
like summer rains
drenched in my dedication
a deluge the washes away doubt
reminds me why i am here
kneeling sometimes
not cause i'm weary
praying for the strength
why i do this
i can do this
for them
for my children
the thread will hold

until it doesn't

i can do this

until i can't

i can't wait around for that day
i don't have time

Friday, March 02, 2007


The AWP Conference is in full swing, and one of the big off-site
will be happening Friday (March 2) night as part of the monthly Poetry
Portfolio Center reading/open mic. Our special guest features will be
award-winning poets Peter Pereira and Ann Fisher-Wirth (more on them
Sign up for the open-mic portion will begin at 7:30 p.m. and the
gets under way at 7:30 p.m.

Also during the evening, poets featuring on Saturday at the AWP reading
"OUTspoken" will also perform, including Theresa Davis, Franklin
Larry Corse and Robin Kemp.

Portfolio Center is located at 125 Bennett St., just off Peachtree
Road, in
Buckhead. Mick's restaurant is on the corner, so you can't miss it.
Come all
the way to the end of Bennett and PC is on your right. Plenty of free
parking. And the event is FREE! Visit if you

After that