Saturday, November 27, 2010
hamster wheels
i know better than to expect change in anyone else. people don't change, circumstances do and the person can move within that. what is it about us that makes us crave another just to try to change them? i made a mistake. tried to tempt fate go back in time. for this i will be plagued by what if. i made the decision. one i can't take back, but to end it now, even though feelings will be hurt and i run the risk of being hated by one i used to love, it's what must be done. for a year we tried, and failed each other, and now we must move on.
Monday, November 08, 2010
November 30/30 #1
This is kinda all over the place
Shelf-life (Nov. 1/30)
Stoic sits on a shelf
Aged with ferocious unfocused eyes
He stills truth
Steals time
Tucks it between his teeth
Bites down on the word sissy
Once worn as his name
Wiped away with punch line fists
Sensitivity decorating the floor
Swept under rugs
By wayward domestic dogs
Lapping up what’s left
Confrontationally straight forward
I am angry with those starters of wars
Hijacking my safety
And hallelujah tears have no place on my landscape
No claim to this face
Because he, my father
And he can’t smell pussy on my breath
He reminds me daily that I am no man
His strong provider legs took it out on my chest
He burned the fruitcake cooking in my mother’s nurturing
I refuse to hold the softness of her
She doesn’t understand that decency
Gets you gone
Good posture
Only puts your face bulls eye level for blows
Ass kicked in locker room, street corners or alleys
He reminds me I am no man
Can’t smell pussy on my breath
So he makes it my middle name
My mother’s baby boy
Wrapped in soft, sensitivity and good posture
Can’t live in the skin she wrapped me in
And the world won’t accept me
Unless I’m hard
So I’ll be stoic
Put my emotions on lock down
Place myself on a shelf
Out of reach
Until I expire
Shelf-life (Nov. 1/30)
Stoic sits on a shelf
Aged with ferocious unfocused eyes
He stills truth
Steals time
Tucks it between his teeth
Bites down on the word sissy
Once worn as his name
Wiped away with punch line fists
Sensitivity decorating the floor
Swept under rugs
By wayward domestic dogs
Lapping up what’s left
Confrontationally straight forward
I am angry with those starters of wars
Hijacking my safety
And hallelujah tears have no place on my landscape
No claim to this face
Because he, my father
And he can’t smell pussy on my breath
He reminds me daily that I am no man
His strong provider legs took it out on my chest
He burned the fruitcake cooking in my mother’s nurturing
I refuse to hold the softness of her
She doesn’t understand that decency
Gets you gone
Good posture
Only puts your face bulls eye level for blows
Ass kicked in locker room, street corners or alleys
He reminds me I am no man
Can’t smell pussy on my breath
So he makes it my middle name
My mother’s baby boy
Wrapped in soft, sensitivity and good posture
Can’t live in the skin she wrapped me in
And the world won’t accept me
Unless I’m hard
So I’ll be stoic
Put my emotions on lock down
Place myself on a shelf
Out of reach
Until I expire
Adventures in Cheyenne
1
This always happens. Why can’t I keep my hands to myself? Who am I kidding? I always have a choice. Always. I just don’t always make the right choices. It was her confident strut that did it. Women who walk like they own their feet are definitely my weakness. And I’ll be damned if they don’t know it. As much as I enjoy being caught in this down pour of beautiful and confident women, even I know seeing four of them at the same time, is asking for trouble. I’m sorry did I say asking? Begging. Begging for trouble.
“Call for you Cheyenne.” Denise screams over the intercom.
“You don’t have to yell Denise, you are quite loud enough. I almost fell out of my chair. You scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry, I’m still trying to get used to this thing. Cheyenne, it doesn’t make sense I can see you from my desk. I’m looking at you right now! An Intercom? If you ask me, it’s pretentious and pointless.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Your caller is still holding. Oh, wait.” She hits the intercom button and shouted, “Your caller is still holding.”
“Very funny.” I said, shaking my head.
“Thanks.” She smirks loudly over the intercom.
I answered the call and heard a voice I hadn’t heard in a while. Instantly I remembered the dress I designed for her. The way it hung on her delicate curves. Then the way it lay in a pile on my bedroom floor. I remember Mrs. Angelica Moreland and there’s nothing angelic about her. Our last encounter didn’t end badly; it just should have never started to begin with.
“What can I do for you today, Mrs. Moreland?”
“Mrs. Moreland? Are we back to formal now?” She asked.
“Business is formal, and since you are calling my office it must be about business. So what can I do for you?”
“Fine, I’ll play. Some business yes, but I wanted to catch up, you know, see how you’ve been. So, how are you?”
“I’m great. Building my own business has had its challenges but I’m holding my own. Lots of orders, so many in fact, that I had to hire a bigger staff.” I said proudly.
“That’s wonderful Cheyenne! I have to admit part of why I called you was because of the design you did for Jasmine. I saw the pictures in Elle. The dress was amazing. The way it fit her body, every part of her perfectly, I knew you spent a lot of time on her design. So, how was she?” She asked in a lecherous tone.
“I enjoyed working with her.” I replied completely professional.
“I bet you did.”
“Did you call for a real reason Angelica? I’m a little busy this morning.” I tried to sound as impatient as possible.
“ Fine. You’re no fun today. I need your services. Well the ones you provide when making beautiful clothing.”
“Those are the only services I offer, Angelica.”
“That’s disappointing, but I’m sure I can change your mind.” She cooed.
“Seriously, please, what do you want?”
“We’d be safer if we talked about my needs instead of what I want.”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. It had been a year since I last saw Angelica, and she hasn’t changed a bit.
“ I need,” she continued, “an outfit for a charity event in May. I remember you need six months but surely four will suffice, plus I’m a longstanding customer.”
“I really do need the full six months. I have several designs I’m working on already. I don’t think I’ll be able to fit you in. Maybe you should come check out the designs I’ve already completed. I’m sure you will find something you like.”
“I don’t want a dress you made to fit some other woman’s body. I want you to make one for my body, my frame, my curves. If I wanted it off the rack I’d have gone to Macy’s!” she boomed.
“And if you’d have wanted me to make it you’d have called me two months ago. I can’t take another job right now. I’m sorry.” I motioned to Denise to interrupt me so I could excuse myself off the phone, but she kept putting her finger to her ear like she couldn’t hear me while pointing at the damn intercom. Note to self get rid of the fucking intercom.
“Cheyenne, please? Come see me. We can work something out.” She pleaded.
“How’s your husband Angelica?” I asked in a surly tone.
“Out of town, like I like him. Will you come see me?” She asked.
“ I’ll think about it. It was good hearing from you Angelica.” I hung up before she could reply.
I didn’t have time for this, but knowing Angelica the way I did, I knew she’d keep calling until I caved or she’d show up. That wasn’t going to happen.
This always happens. Why can’t I keep my hands to myself? Who am I kidding? I always have a choice. Always. I just don’t always make the right choices. It was her confident strut that did it. Women who walk like they own their feet are definitely my weakness. And I’ll be damned if they don’t know it. As much as I enjoy being caught in this down pour of beautiful and confident women, even I know seeing four of them at the same time, is asking for trouble. I’m sorry did I say asking? Begging. Begging for trouble.
“Call for you Cheyenne.” Denise screams over the intercom.
“You don’t have to yell Denise, you are quite loud enough. I almost fell out of my chair. You scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry, I’m still trying to get used to this thing. Cheyenne, it doesn’t make sense I can see you from my desk. I’m looking at you right now! An Intercom? If you ask me, it’s pretentious and pointless.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Your caller is still holding. Oh, wait.” She hits the intercom button and shouted, “Your caller is still holding.”
“Very funny.” I said, shaking my head.
“Thanks.” She smirks loudly over the intercom.
I answered the call and heard a voice I hadn’t heard in a while. Instantly I remembered the dress I designed for her. The way it hung on her delicate curves. Then the way it lay in a pile on my bedroom floor. I remember Mrs. Angelica Moreland and there’s nothing angelic about her. Our last encounter didn’t end badly; it just should have never started to begin with.
“What can I do for you today, Mrs. Moreland?”
“Mrs. Moreland? Are we back to formal now?” She asked.
“Business is formal, and since you are calling my office it must be about business. So what can I do for you?”
“Fine, I’ll play. Some business yes, but I wanted to catch up, you know, see how you’ve been. So, how are you?”
“I’m great. Building my own business has had its challenges but I’m holding my own. Lots of orders, so many in fact, that I had to hire a bigger staff.” I said proudly.
“That’s wonderful Cheyenne! I have to admit part of why I called you was because of the design you did for Jasmine. I saw the pictures in Elle. The dress was amazing. The way it fit her body, every part of her perfectly, I knew you spent a lot of time on her design. So, how was she?” She asked in a lecherous tone.
“I enjoyed working with her.” I replied completely professional.
“I bet you did.”
“Did you call for a real reason Angelica? I’m a little busy this morning.” I tried to sound as impatient as possible.
“ Fine. You’re no fun today. I need your services. Well the ones you provide when making beautiful clothing.”
“Those are the only services I offer, Angelica.”
“That’s disappointing, but I’m sure I can change your mind.” She cooed.
“Seriously, please, what do you want?”
“We’d be safer if we talked about my needs instead of what I want.”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. It had been a year since I last saw Angelica, and she hasn’t changed a bit.
“ I need,” she continued, “an outfit for a charity event in May. I remember you need six months but surely four will suffice, plus I’m a longstanding customer.”
“I really do need the full six months. I have several designs I’m working on already. I don’t think I’ll be able to fit you in. Maybe you should come check out the designs I’ve already completed. I’m sure you will find something you like.”
“I don’t want a dress you made to fit some other woman’s body. I want you to make one for my body, my frame, my curves. If I wanted it off the rack I’d have gone to Macy’s!” she boomed.
“And if you’d have wanted me to make it you’d have called me two months ago. I can’t take another job right now. I’m sorry.” I motioned to Denise to interrupt me so I could excuse myself off the phone, but she kept putting her finger to her ear like she couldn’t hear me while pointing at the damn intercom. Note to self get rid of the fucking intercom.
“Cheyenne, please? Come see me. We can work something out.” She pleaded.
“How’s your husband Angelica?” I asked in a surly tone.
“Out of town, like I like him. Will you come see me?” She asked.
“ I’ll think about it. It was good hearing from you Angelica.” I hung up before she could reply.
I didn’t have time for this, but knowing Angelica the way I did, I knew she’d keep calling until I caved or she’d show up. That wasn’t going to happen.
Coming Soon!! Adventures in Cheyenne
I am going to post some of my short stories on here because no one reads my blog so surely the kiddies won't;-)
Wednesday, October 06, 2010
Frida #1 Cremation
This is the first of my Frida Kahlo series, feedback welcomed
#1 Cremation
In the end
When the flames touched
My body
I rose
Stood up on my feet
Not moving
Arms outstretched
An attempt to hold my beloved Mexico
The only home I knew
Knowing I was not house or home
No child left a footprint on my womb
Many children entered none crossed over
Hands crossed upon my chest
I embraced the sparks
Don’t tell the others
But I was not much
More than sparks
When I was alive
But now
I am flame
Swirling around
My once alive head
My once alive heart
You see me
Then you don’t
Engulfed
My comfort
I will visit all of my lost children
Lost no more
Warmth
I could never feel wrapped
In cold lying arms
Comfort
Something I couldn't feel
Something separate from the pain
There was always pain
Disappointment
Closer than my sister
She, may have been the thing that killed me
More than the other things that killed me
My family
The family I would never have
Your children I could never bear
Diego
Could you imagine children with my sister?
Can you feel me here?
My empty womb
My sister’s sister
The fire
Hoisted me
Beyond your reach
You will never hurt me again
I stood up for you
In the palm of your hands
For the last time
Hold me to your eyes
So you can watch me
See, the everything of my pain
Watch me
As I
Burn
I burn for you
Always,
Home
Mexico
#1 Cremation
In the end
When the flames touched
My body
I rose
Stood up on my feet
Not moving
Arms outstretched
An attempt to hold my beloved Mexico
The only home I knew
Knowing I was not house or home
No child left a footprint on my womb
Many children entered none crossed over
Hands crossed upon my chest
I embraced the sparks
Don’t tell the others
But I was not much
More than sparks
When I was alive
But now
I am flame
Swirling around
My once alive head
My once alive heart
You see me
Then you don’t
Engulfed
My comfort
I will visit all of my lost children
Lost no more
Warmth
I could never feel wrapped
In cold lying arms
Comfort
Something I couldn't feel
Something separate from the pain
There was always pain
Disappointment
Closer than my sister
She, may have been the thing that killed me
More than the other things that killed me
My family
The family I would never have
Your children I could never bear
Diego
Could you imagine children with my sister?
Can you feel me here?
My empty womb
My sister’s sister
The fire
Hoisted me
Beyond your reach
You will never hurt me again
I stood up for you
In the palm of your hands
For the last time
Hold me to your eyes
So you can watch me
See, the everything of my pain
Watch me
As I
Burn
I burn for you
Always,
Home
Mexico
Tuesday, October 05, 2010
The Return???
I haven't been posting or blogging much but all of that is about to change..... I am done hiberbnating. I have several projects in the works and one of them I would love your help with. I am a teacher and my students are taking a pretend trip around the world. We would love it if you would send us a card from where you are in the world. Send your postcards to Theresa Davis and Her Amazing Class, 1900 Dekalb Ave., Atlanta ,Ga. 30307.
The other project is a series of poems inspired by the life and works of Frida Kahlo. I will post those poems here and on facebook.
Thanks
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Friday, April 30, 2010
Worst Case Scenario #2
#2 what to do when you hear a woman being raped
you wake with a start
disoriented you stagger to you babies room
thinking something is wrong
when you find them sleeping soundly
you focus on what you are hearing
you go back to your room
remove the butcher knife from under your pillow
and slowly creep towards your back door
you peep through the peep hole
see the man slap the woman
he tells her to shut the fuck up
the calendar on the wall tells you it’s Sunday
you watch him tear her dress
hold her down and yank at her underwear
you see him lower his pants
cover her mouth and he begins the violation
you hesitate
then call 911
you whisper what you see
beg them to leave you anonymous
they say they will
you don’t believe
you go back to the peep hole
you want to save her
you know you can’t
you pray the babies can’t hear
you move to the kitchen window
lift the blinds peek out and see the officer
you hear a scream
the officer talks into his shoulder
places one hand on his gun
you run to the peep hole
you watch the man pull up his pants
and spit on the woman
you run back towards the kitchen you see the officer
gun drawn other hand held in a stop motion
you hear the guy explain that it was nothing
you see the woman stagger out
she scream she was raped
you see the officer turn the guy around
place handcuffs on his wrist and as he looks up
the officer sees you
you stare at each other
he nods
you panic
the ambulance comes
they are all leaving
you breathe for what feels like
the first time in an hour
you do the mother thing
make breakfast
play games
talk baby talk
your head is a hamster wheel
you put the babies in their play pen
put on their favorite movie
the little mermaid
she wants to be human
and for some strange reason
you think that is the saddest thing you’ve ever heard
you shield your tears from your babies
listen to them sing a part of your world
even the one that can’t talk
and you sob
there is a knock at the door
you tense
the babies sing
you peep through the peep hole
you realize
you spend a lot of time
peering through peepholes
there is a man
the police officer from earlier
now in plain clothes
you are grateful for the absence of uniform
you open the door leaving the slide bolt in place
he hands you his card
thanks you for calling in the assault
tells you that he spoke to all of your neighbors
were at home dressed to got to church
and none of them even thought about calling
you are screaming inside your chest
he tells you
you are alone
you believe
he tells you that if you need anything
call the number on the card and ask fo him
you nod dumbly
he tells you he will watch out for you
a tear slides across your cheek
he hears the babies
tells you not to worry
you worry
when you close the door you dissolve
your babies stop singing
they watch you fold
they feel it
everybody cries
Ariel sings
you wake with a start
disoriented you stagger to you babies room
thinking something is wrong
when you find them sleeping soundly
you focus on what you are hearing
you go back to your room
remove the butcher knife from under your pillow
and slowly creep towards your back door
you peep through the peep hole
see the man slap the woman
he tells her to shut the fuck up
the calendar on the wall tells you it’s Sunday
you watch him tear her dress
hold her down and yank at her underwear
you see him lower his pants
cover her mouth and he begins the violation
you hesitate
then call 911
you whisper what you see
beg them to leave you anonymous
they say they will
you don’t believe
you go back to the peep hole
you want to save her
you know you can’t
you pray the babies can’t hear
you move to the kitchen window
lift the blinds peek out and see the officer
you hear a scream
the officer talks into his shoulder
places one hand on his gun
you run to the peep hole
you watch the man pull up his pants
and spit on the woman
you run back towards the kitchen you see the officer
gun drawn other hand held in a stop motion
you hear the guy explain that it was nothing
you see the woman stagger out
she scream she was raped
you see the officer turn the guy around
place handcuffs on his wrist and as he looks up
the officer sees you
you stare at each other
he nods
you panic
the ambulance comes
they are all leaving
you breathe for what feels like
the first time in an hour
you do the mother thing
make breakfast
play games
talk baby talk
your head is a hamster wheel
you put the babies in their play pen
put on their favorite movie
the little mermaid
she wants to be human
and for some strange reason
you think that is the saddest thing you’ve ever heard
you shield your tears from your babies
listen to them sing a part of your world
even the one that can’t talk
and you sob
there is a knock at the door
you tense
the babies sing
you peep through the peep hole
you realize
you spend a lot of time
peering through peepholes
there is a man
the police officer from earlier
now in plain clothes
you are grateful for the absence of uniform
you open the door leaving the slide bolt in place
he hands you his card
thanks you for calling in the assault
tells you that he spoke to all of your neighbors
were at home dressed to got to church
and none of them even thought about calling
you are screaming inside your chest
he tells you
you are alone
you believe
he tells you that if you need anything
call the number on the card and ask fo him
you nod dumbly
he tells you he will watch out for you
a tear slides across your cheek
he hears the babies
tells you not to worry
you worry
when you close the door you dissolve
your babies stop singing
they watch you fold
they feel it
everybody cries
Ariel sings
Worst Case Scenario #1
#1
what to do when you arrive to your home in the projects to find high and drunken men playing craps in front of your door
you are surprised
you don’t make eye contact
your octopus arms holding one baby on hip
with groceries
the other by hand
with a double stroller
you hesitate
take the key you need
hold it firmly
you quietly say excuse me
head motioning towards the door
when one man asks
bitch what the fuck do you want
you don’t tell him
you watch their bodies not their eyes
when one body relaxes
you look into that body eyes
when he says
man, let this lady get by
you are grateful
reward him with full eye contact
ignore the complaints as the men sort of
move away from the door
you juggle all the things you are holding
the babes
the stroller
the groceries
your screams and sobs
you let the key hit the lock
quickly
not so fast that they think you’re afraid
you are afraid
you tense when you feel the stroller
being pulled from your grasp
relax but not completely
when you see it’s the one with the kind eyes
you thank him
put the baby down
release the toddler
grab the stroller
whisper thank you and close the door
you engage both deadbolts
quietly
you don’t want them to think you are scared
you are terrified
you bathe the babies quickly
dress them in pajamas
sing lullabies and tell stories
when they are settled you go back to the door
peep thought the peep hole
watch and listen as the game turns violent
you cry silent tears
check the locks on doors and windows
you go to the kitchen
take the butcher knife
place it under pillow
you cry
make a promise that you will get out of the projects
know that it won’t be tonight
you cry yourself to sleep
hand gripping the handle of the knife
what to do when you arrive to your home in the projects to find high and drunken men playing craps in front of your door
you are surprised
you don’t make eye contact
your octopus arms holding one baby on hip
with groceries
the other by hand
with a double stroller
you hesitate
take the key you need
hold it firmly
you quietly say excuse me
head motioning towards the door
when one man asks
bitch what the fuck do you want
you don’t tell him
you watch their bodies not their eyes
when one body relaxes
you look into that body eyes
when he says
man, let this lady get by
you are grateful
reward him with full eye contact
ignore the complaints as the men sort of
move away from the door
you juggle all the things you are holding
the babes
the stroller
the groceries
your screams and sobs
you let the key hit the lock
quickly
not so fast that they think you’re afraid
you are afraid
you tense when you feel the stroller
being pulled from your grasp
relax but not completely
when you see it’s the one with the kind eyes
you thank him
put the baby down
release the toddler
grab the stroller
whisper thank you and close the door
you engage both deadbolts
quietly
you don’t want them to think you are scared
you are terrified
you bathe the babies quickly
dress them in pajamas
sing lullabies and tell stories
when they are settled you go back to the door
peep thought the peep hole
watch and listen as the game turns violent
you cry silent tears
check the locks on doors and windows
you go to the kitchen
take the butcher knife
place it under pillow
you cry
make a promise that you will get out of the projects
know that it won’t be tonight
you cry yourself to sleep
hand gripping the handle of the knife
worst Case Scenario
the worst case scenario guide
is laughable to me
it fails to present any scenario
I have ever had to survive
my situations may be different
but they are no less serious
and have been some of the worst things
that have ever happened to me
life happens every second
and every second we ponder
the worst
hoping for the best
is laughable to me
it fails to present any scenario
I have ever had to survive
my situations may be different
but they are no less serious
and have been some of the worst things
that have ever happened to me
life happens every second
and every second we ponder
the worst
hoping for the best
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Thursday, April 01, 2010
Number 1b Haiku
The way I feel between heartbeats
I’m stuck on random
Thoughts of you and I in love
Complex, beautiful
~Theresa
I’m stuck on random
Thoughts of you and I in love
Complex, beautiful
~Theresa
Number 1a Implacable
It is said that if no one hates you for the things you do then you’re not doing it right
you reach high
arms lifted in mock prayer
believing in errors
snap judgments and omissions
holding the attention of tiny minds and
your spurious attempts at compassion
falls short like your sight
eyes on the prize, you preach
kingdom of god ,you threaten
God is Love
Inhale
God hates Fags
exhale
the contradiction doesn’t stutter your speech
you speak proudly of God as my enemy
tells me how thoroughly he hates me
self appointed messenger of the all knowing
all seeing, all encompassing
Fred Phelps
I don’t believe in every thing
For instance,
I have never believed in hate filled manifestos
maligning the dignity of family,
smattering copious amounts
of acrimonious bullshit
smeared on poster boards
standing outside of funeral homes
where broken parents
bury broken soldiers
but I do believe,
that if God needed a hype man
he would not have chosen you
your penchant for instigation makes you cliché
because you lack the rudimentary concept of human
deems you behind the times
and God’s gonna need someone who can relate to the masses
I mean what the fuck good is a hype man with no people skills
your loose affiliation with honesty
doesn’t match that whole Bible thing
he would want someone who can read
someone who understood the complexities of his master plan
someone who can spell words bigger than FAG and HATE
someone whose creativity isn’t limited to illusory words of faith
no Freddy, you are no Hype man to God
you are indeed a hater
and because you believe you have the balls of an angel
you decided to hate at the highest
and I have to say Phelps
I must be doing something right
if you are hating me on the same level as the Lord
My GOD!
I must be doing everything right!
everyone should have a hater Fred
and thanks to you
We all do
you reach high
arms lifted in mock prayer
believing in errors
snap judgments and omissions
holding the attention of tiny minds and
your spurious attempts at compassion
falls short like your sight
eyes on the prize, you preach
kingdom of god ,you threaten
God is Love
Inhale
God hates Fags
exhale
the contradiction doesn’t stutter your speech
you speak proudly of God as my enemy
tells me how thoroughly he hates me
self appointed messenger of the all knowing
all seeing, all encompassing
Fred Phelps
I don’t believe in every thing
For instance,
I have never believed in hate filled manifestos
maligning the dignity of family,
smattering copious amounts
of acrimonious bullshit
smeared on poster boards
standing outside of funeral homes
where broken parents
bury broken soldiers
but I do believe,
that if God needed a hype man
he would not have chosen you
your penchant for instigation makes you cliché
because you lack the rudimentary concept of human
deems you behind the times
and God’s gonna need someone who can relate to the masses
I mean what the fuck good is a hype man with no people skills
your loose affiliation with honesty
doesn’t match that whole Bible thing
he would want someone who can read
someone who understood the complexities of his master plan
someone who can spell words bigger than FAG and HATE
someone whose creativity isn’t limited to illusory words of faith
no Freddy, you are no Hype man to God
you are indeed a hater
and because you believe you have the balls of an angel
you decided to hate at the highest
and I have to say Phelps
I must be doing something right
if you are hating me on the same level as the Lord
My GOD!
I must be doing everything right!
everyone should have a hater Fred
and thanks to you
We all do
Poem a day for 30 days!!
I have to do better about blogging and I promise that I will do so. I haven’t given up on this blog, I have lost all of my followers however and I will work hard to get them back… so stay tuned or tune in for one Poem(or more) and one Haiku a day
Friday, January 08, 2010
Wish You Were Here!!!
Wish You Were Here, is a poetry and performance show featuring Theresa Davis (Slam Poet), Jon Goode (HBO Def Poetry, BET Lyric Cafe, CNN Black in America, Nick@Nite) and Special Guests;Alice Lovelace (Lead organizer for the US Social Forum, Godmother of Spoken Word in Atlanta), HBO Def Poetry & BET Lyric Cafe's Amir Sulaiman; HBO Def Poetry & BET Lyric Cafe's Malik Salaam; HBO Def Poetry's Dana Gilmore; Slam Poet AP and singer/ songwriter Ken J Martin. The show will take place on January the 9th @ 7stages main stage between the hours of 8pm and 10pm. Wish You Were Here will cover a variety of themes ranging from politics to love, from war to peace and all points in between. The emotions evoked through the work presented will run the gamut. The hope is to through words take the audience on an experience through the lives of the artists and since we are more similar than we know also take them on a journey through their own lives. Tickets are $10 in Advance and $15 @ the door 7stages Box Office 404-523-7647. For More info rockstarpoet@gmail.com: 404-522-0911: or 770-873-6500.
get tickets here
http://sa1.seatadvisor.com/sabo/servlets/TicketRequest;jsessionid=50CF707108788632BE735CCF46D701B6?eventId=237146&presenter=7stage&venue=&event=
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)