Truth is a Virus
By Sundiata Acoli and Walidah Imarisha
Guerrilla plague
Brought from bastard tongues
Blood from a burst blister
Blood on the legs of a sister
We are the fever that heals as it burns
Our rage purifies
Harbingers of chaos and construction.
Living virus running through your system
Resurrecting those you hit at but missed em
We are the war coming home
The second coming of Rome
Defeated abroad and destroyed from within
Never to terrorize or rise again.
poetry
Beautiful
in
By Walidah Imarisha
You
My ex partner
My sometimes lover
My always love
Are beautiful
I am in the midst of death
But that is just the way
Amerika
Smells
On a hot texas day
And I have to write this
Because I want to honor
A warrior
with the face of a child
if death row
can’t slice up a sacred heart
then I
have a lot of blood
to start pumping
touched my face
with willow tree hands
and said
look
a butterfly
just landed on your left cheek
You
My ex partner
My sometimes lover
My always love
Are beautiful
I am in the midst of death
But that is just the way
Amerika
Smells
On a hot texas day
And I have to write this
Because I want to honor
A warrior
with the face of a child
if death row
can’t slice up a sacred heart
then I
have a lot of blood
to start pumping
touched my face
with willow tree hands
and said
look
a butterfly
just landed on your left cheek
Wade in the Water
in
For the people of Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Iraq, Aghanistan, Colombia, South Central, North Philly and every other spot on the globe people are resisting the sharp teeth of genocide.
By Walidah Imarisha
I.
There was still water
standing
6 ft deep
in people’s homes
two weeks
after the flood.
Through waters laced
with chemicals
and human excrement
and bloated bodies,
black and brown people
went out every day
to save the kin
left behind,
shredded
and discarded.
By Walidah Imarisha
I.
There was still water
standing
6 ft deep
in people’s homes
two weeks
after the flood.
Through waters laced
with chemicals
and human excrement
and bloated bodies,
black and brown people
went out every day
to save the kin
left behind,
shredded
and discarded.
The sky’s the Limit
in
By Walidah Imarisha
The unfinished revolution
Borne of the streets
Blood pours down the concrete
In turn
Birthing tracks in a studio
Laid down on wax.
Manifesting tell-tell stories,
Duplicating and recreating
The entire color spectrum.
Visions of the Brown Berets
Haunted by the CIA,
Undulating vibrating penetrating
The beat masturbating to itself
And in turn inseminating segments of the population
Vietcong guerrilla commando fighting style,
Staggering through a mind field
The unfinished revolution
Borne of the streets
Blood pours down the concrete
In turn
Birthing tracks in a studio
Laid down on wax.
Manifesting tell-tell stories,
Duplicating and recreating
The entire color spectrum.
Visions of the Brown Berets
Haunted by the CIA,
Undulating vibrating penetrating
The beat masturbating to itself
And in turn inseminating segments of the population
Vietcong guerrilla commando fighting style,
Staggering through a mind field
Tagging
in
By Walidah Imarisha
“shit, you gotta tag trains”
he said, twirling a spray paint can like a six shooter.
“yo, walls are nice and all,
but how else people as far as st. louis and cali
goin to see your name?
now that's fucking immortality.”
traintracks cross cross this country like the river lethe
where truth is what is remembered,
imbedded into the soil and into our minds
into our history
as mighty engines rumble over
uneasingly sleeping ground.
outlaws used to rob trains,
“shit, you gotta tag trains”
he said, twirling a spray paint can like a six shooter.
“yo, walls are nice and all,
but how else people as far as st. louis and cali
goin to see your name?
now that's fucking immortality.”
traintracks cross cross this country like the river lethe
where truth is what is remembered,
imbedded into the soil and into our minds
into our history
as mighty engines rumble over
uneasingly sleeping ground.
outlaws used to rob trains,
Prophet
in
By Walidah Imarisha
Today I met a prophet
getting off the Q train
the smell of piss and pot smoke
succulent and heavy.
My heart was torn and swollen.
Today I needed a miracle
to make it through.
For so long
I have had no religion
save the love we are able to steal.
His laughter cackled crackled curled
punctuated scriptures
pierced my self-righteous disbelief
in anything more judgmental than myself.
Crucified in new york
stoned in south central
or shot 41 times in jerusalem.
Today I met a prophet
getting off the Q train
the smell of piss and pot smoke
succulent and heavy.
My heart was torn and swollen.
Today I needed a miracle
to make it through.
For so long
I have had no religion
save the love we are able to steal.
His laughter cackled crackled curled
punctuated scriptures
pierced my self-righteous disbelief
in anything more judgmental than myself.
Crucified in new york
stoned in south central
or shot 41 times in jerusalem.
Prayer for Assata
in
By Walidah Imarisha
Assata
Face wiped clean of age
Cheekbones you could fall off of
Body that flows like water over worn rocks
Dreadlocks splayed out and open
Trailing the scent of soothing aloe and sage
I wish Assata
Many beautiful lovers
Lovers who smell
Of earth
Warmed by the sun
Rather than despair that stinks
Like urine-stained tenement halls
She has known love
On the run
As sweetly intense
And dangerously fragile
As life at the barrel of the gun
Assata
Face wiped clean of age
Cheekbones you could fall off of
Body that flows like water over worn rocks
Dreadlocks splayed out and open
Trailing the scent of soothing aloe and sage
I wish Assata
Many beautiful lovers
Lovers who smell
Of earth
Warmed by the sun
Rather than despair that stinks
Like urine-stained tenement halls
She has known love
On the run
As sweetly intense
And dangerously fragile
As life at the barrel of the gun
My Left Eye
in
By Walidah Imarisha
do not love too big
your heart squeezed between the
fragile eggshells of ribs
keep it small
enough
to hold in one cupped hand
sheltered
jagged wings to be protected
do not let it flavor
your tongue
saturate your spit
until it glistens like dew
keep love tucked in your cheek
confined
controlled
I have been battered
to my roots
by the ravages of my own heart
i have showered myself
upon another’s head
slid down his upturned moon face
pooled
do not love too big
your heart squeezed between the
fragile eggshells of ribs
keep it small
enough
to hold in one cupped hand
sheltered
jagged wings to be protected
do not let it flavor
your tongue
saturate your spit
until it glistens like dew
keep love tucked in your cheek
confined
controlled
I have been battered
to my roots
by the ravages of my own heart
i have showered myself
upon another’s head
slid down his upturned moon face
pooled
Military Targets
in
by Walidah Imarisha
They say they only bomb military targets.
Only military targets
they coo soothingly.
We are not terrorists,
setting bombs
and stealing planes
and stabbing at the night
which asphyxiates and poisons.
We have clean shirts
and clean hands
and we sterilize our instruments
before we operate.
Israeli soldiers invaded Ramallah today.
I only know this because a white activist told me so.
He said
Israeli soldiers invaded Ramallah today
and I am so depressed,
They say they only bomb military targets.
Only military targets
they coo soothingly.
We are not terrorists,
setting bombs
and stealing planes
and stabbing at the night
which asphyxiates and poisons.
We have clean shirts
and clean hands
and we sterilize our instruments
before we operate.
Israeli soldiers invaded Ramallah today.
I only know this because a white activist told me so.
He said
Israeli soldiers invaded Ramallah today
and I am so depressed,
Love in the Trenches
in
By Walidah Imarisha
He is a Technicolor bright red star
On a titled beret Black
as revolution
She is an afro on a wanted poster
Clear eyes staring out and scaring
the shit out of those who aint
got a clue.
He is a black mask on the face
Of a child who has had
Enuf
Of the tanks and checkpoints.
She is hands around a shocked solder’s throat
As the crowd surges around her and
Overpowers rifles and gas
Canisters with the sheer force of
Flesh
He is a Technicolor bright red star
On a titled beret Black
as revolution
She is an afro on a wanted poster
Clear eyes staring out and scaring
the shit out of those who aint
got a clue.
He is a black mask on the face
Of a child who has had
Enuf
Of the tanks and checkpoints.
She is hands around a shocked solder’s throat
As the crowd surges around her and
Overpowers rifles and gas
Canisters with the sheer force of
Flesh
