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May 7th, 2005

02:18 am

I just started a new community called open__spaces it's a community for queer youth and allies to find support, friends and community. Please come help get this community started, join, post a but, ask any questions you have or just come to hang out. Click the link below to check out ths community.

Open Minds, Open Spaces

Cross posted everywhere

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February 28th, 2005

10:40 am
The hardest thing -- i've ever done -- is loving someone who used to love me.

And to watch the source of

heart-skip hands-sweat smilewhenalone

just tip-toe to someone else, in a silent way -- so i can't hear

in the dark so i can't see

but i can feel it.

little ribbons attach your tongue to mine

your cheek to mine

my heart to yours

so i can feel it . . . the whole way

I can feel the entire walk a way from me

So i sit, and watch myself become lonely, become obsessed, become depressed

I sit and watch myself excersising in my head

I see myself running in my head.

Is that how i lost all this weight?

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January 12th, 2005

12:36 pm - HBO's Def Jam Poetry: Now Accepting Audition Tapes
I got this from mstegosaurus who was on the program last year.
Def Poetry Jam will return for 6 episodes and tape in February.



1) Vhs containing 3 pieces no longer than 2-3 mins. Shorter the better.
2) Keep it simple but perform with intensity.
3) No music
4) Live crowd optional but not necessary
5) This is a nat'l audience. Make sure your pieces have nat'l appeal.
6) Mail to:

Mudu MultiMedia
DPJ Submissions
PO Box 21-1090
Brooklyn, NY 11221"

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October 10th, 2004

12:40 am - This is from the recent Amazon Slam
Nothing to say

They had nothing to say to each other. What was there to say? Miles separated longing hearts across great plateaus of sandstone, sage and juniper. It was not words that they needed anyway. Words always fell abruptly cutting the silent connection of fingers and flesh that searched through blackness to find even darker places and unlocked secrets.

There was nothing to say. Silence filled the void, the great canyon created by separate needs and ambitions. They were both bound and determined to ride out their own path toward the horizon in search of dreams, meaning and fulfillment. And it was this silence that drew them closer connecting spirits, hearts and the imagination across real boundaries drawn by distance.

They had nothing to say to each other. The silence amplified the emotion. Want was stretched out through invisible beams drawn miles up from the earth into the blackness of the night and then back down to connect their voices. But nothing was there but silence and an occasional, “Are you still there?”

“Yes, I am.”

There was nothing else to say except to acknowledge that this was fate doing its job, uniting souls only to divide bodies, separating the desired from the one who desires, stretching taut an emotional boundary, testing its limits.

They would not break. They would not break the silence with unnecessary words about news of the world, reporting back and forth the comings and goings of their communities. She was freshly plucked from an established circle to transplant herself into new soil. Her roots had not begun to stretch beyond their tentative cluster to seek out new friends and embed themselves in the earth.

There was nothing to report. Her life never changed. It beat out the same steady rhythm of ritualistic challenge. She was stuck in the daily grind and no matter how things changed everything seemed to stay the same. It seemed like fate to be invested in the comfort of repetitive motion that continually challenged her capabilities. She felt herself grow and had no desire to give it up. So there was nothing to say.

Words would not change the distance. They would not reach across the lands dotted with cacti, chase a twisting river through a canyon and empty themselves into the port of a coastal city. This is the way things are and for now the way things would be.

Fate’s job is to provide irony in the lives of those who would dare to test it. It grants deepest wishes but dangles them from strings twisted up in a fragile web of loops and suspends them over an abyss. Pull the wrong one and everything disappears into the darkness below.

They had nothing to say to each other so silence snuck in and grabbed their hands. It pulled itself thin and stitched an invisible thread through hearts and hands and souls. In that moment they were so much closer.

The sky is an infinite expanse of space containing an infinite number of moving bodies. Just imagine within it one world containing billions of creatures who reach for imaginary lines to wrap themselves up in and find comfort. That place is here and now. We look to the sky with longing and curiosity and imagine the stars winking at us. It is not so: they wink at each other. There is so much to hear when we decide to look.

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September 28th, 2004

10:10 pm - elect june grooms
say good morning to our second chapbook, elect june grooms by erika howsare.

more information at horse less press:

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September 24th, 2004

04:55 pm - Voice mail
I dial your number
over and over
the number automatic
under my fingertips
but it just rings and rings
until I get your voicemail
that always sounds happy
to hear from me
and I have to hang up
dial again
and again

wondering why you just—
just now—
left a message
to call you back and then
you don't answer your phone
step out of range

it is always something
you are always unreachable
and I keep dialing
thinking maybe this time
you are going to pick up.

(Xposted in my journal and gqwriters

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September 7th, 2004

01:50 pm
My perceptions

The words of pure energy and half insanity flows from my lips
My well written scripts strips you till your mind eclipse
In a universe full of dodgy characters and half written rhymes
Where the real crime is ignoring your instinct at times
As people we have a responsibility to teach those caught in half light
Full of intellectual blight once original ghetto art becomes trite
I’m too polite to ever say that anything will be alright
This kill or be killed world brings people like me under
Cause we dare to wonder about the divine beauty of blunders
But the world doesn’t have time for our mistakes
Doesn’t have time to listen to stories of our pains and heartaches
We dare as a nation to ignore our inclination to pro-create desperation
It must seem so easy to raise expectations and lower motivation
Keep the children of adversaries out of school, raise a nation of fools
Let them be blinded by jewels and abstinence from rules
And when it comes to our women why not be subjective
We all know Adam is protective and Eve defective
The bible can’t lie and the preacher cant pray broke
The idea is you pour out money and they’ll preach out smoke
Have the kids chocked full of candy chocked full of drugs
Having 14 year old girls handing out sex for hugs
Cause the prison sentence got daddy locked up for long
And mom is too young to know right from wrong
So what kind of a world do we have ourselves living in
Where every chagrin we feel within is shared by our neighbors
Our everlasting twins in this war against sin
This poem gave no truths and told no deceptions
This is just an opinion…a visual perception

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August 26th, 2004

01:12 pm - HI!
Hello all.. I was out looking at communities and I ran across this one and I was hoping you could help me out. First let me introduce myself, I am an artist, poet, activist, and general smart ass from Raleigh NC. I am working to hone my craft as one day I hope to make poetry my full time job. Mostly my work is spoken word poetry, free verse, and couplets.
With that said here is the favor… I am experimenting with a new poetry style. It is based on Mya Angelou's... basically the even lines rhyme.. but I am a bit dodgy on the meter. I haven't quite figured it out yet. So if you will please take a look at this and tell me what you think!
Thanks!! I look forward to being a part of this community!

summer timesCollapse )
Current Mood: okayokay
Current Music: Ella

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August 17th, 2004

12:04 pm - Attention queer bioF/dyke Muslims
This isn't a piece for critique, just a call for submissions. I thought people here might be interested (or know someone who is). I hope this is OK to post, Ren.

Huriyah magazine call for submissionsCollapse )

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August 14th, 2004

10:59 am - A Glass of Water
There is a glass on the dresser
containing water from yesterday.

It is sitting next to the candle
melted down to the end of its wick.

The lipstick remains
an imprint of her presence,
bright pink against cobalt blue.

The glass, untouched by anything else
rests on the dresser waiting.

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