Writing.

Writing is hard.
It makes you look at how wide your jeans have gotten since your last poem.
You wonder if writing will ever feel the way it felt the day love was so real...
We were so young.
I'm still young.
This poetry of mine still revolves around
Love
Hate
Time
Sex
Sex
God... and why he is He
Writing is hard.

Theory Captured

i learned the stench of womanhood
while scrubbing baseboards

a sudden itch
stole my attention
and the smell lingered
hours after

hands submerged in Pine Sol & bleach
in attempt to singe
shame from the free edge of my painted nails...

i now crave the stench of womanhood

my fingers
perched
in between my upper lip and nostrils

inhaling the aroma
of yesterdays

before

eggs migrated to womb
in search of you

before

sunrise left my innocence
trapped under the migrating moon

before

womanhood was theory
captured

2/7/08 3:22pm

We Shall See.

The start of another semester. I must say, part of me is very excited because I've done nothing but sit on this ever spreading ass of mines for the last month.

It's so interesting to watch my insecurities hard at work in my life. I am constantly reflecting on what Ms. Celie said about Shug: "People don't like nobody too proud, or too free." So I am constantly battling in between being 'chill' Eris or the outrageous Eris that I always am. I am never sure if I am being authentic. In the end...I am who I am. I love to talk about food, love, music, and sex. Everything about me is always too much or not enough. I'm not sure how to create a healthy medium. But...whatever.

So...in the mistd of my infirmity I am awake in between large doses of NyQuil. I left the television on as I always do, and this time when I woke up, I awakened to the sound of black debate. Weird right? Right. It was the "Our World" show by Black Enterprise hosted by Ed Gordon. Their topic was on black education. Needless to say, I walked away from the show not gaining much because they were all yelling and screaming, and at the end there was no tangible solution to the african-american education problem. So me...being the person I am, had to write into the show! This is what I wrote:

I am a 23 year old college student from Cleveland Ohio, and this morning was the first time I caught your show. I think that this show's concept is excellent. But with a lot of the debates on black issues my consistent complaint is the lack of black youth available to voice their opinions.

So often we as young black people get put into the box of "reckless, careless, individuals that need to be protected" When it comes to education issues, or any issues, why not engage the young black voice? When it comes to civil and social issues of today, why not the young black voice? We live in a day where the revolution could be televised but we have our elders who are too afraid to let go and let the youth fend for themselves on these issues.

Sharpton, Jackson, and all of these other leaders are from a different generation. The fact of the matter is, is that marches are no longer effective. Yelling and screaming on TV is no longer effective. The revolution of the young black man and woman is going to have to be more streamlined. And every time I watch a show on the topic of education and on civil rights I get disheartened because the elders of our community feel the same way that the over riding majority of our country feel about black people: You all feel like we are incapable of effecting change, when in actuality, change is being made as we speak.

My initial reason for writing was to say that I think it’s a shame that this show airs in Cleveland at five in the morning, but now that I have been exposed to it, I will be setting my alarm so I can watch it. I wish your show can switch slots with Flava of Love & I Love New York. Now…there’s a conversation to have.

So yeah, hopefully they will get in contact with more young idealists who are making the changes that need to be made. I feel like the biggest problem we have is thinking that we can save the entire black race. This is (I can't believe I'm quoting Master P) Captain Kirk syndrome: "Don't save her...she don't wanna be saved." Everybody doesn't want to be saved from themselves. So what has to be done is locate those "Mustard Seeds" of hope and faith and work on cultivating them.

Peace People. I leave you with my Mustard Seeds Poem.

Mustard Seeds
I remember a time
When we wanted to be doctors
Living in the year 2000
I thought we would be further
Living like the Jetson’s
Flying to galaxies above
But we’re stuck
I remember a time when…
My first pony was a commercial
Of things we couldn't get
Domino rally, Barbie and Ken
We went outside to play…
Any bounce vs. whiffle ball
Big wheels with the handles that slid off
(Rolling down the street on my big wheel sippin’ on orange juice…)
Now kids want to be rappers
and drug dealers
Videos hoes turned strippers
And I have to turn the TV off
Sit in my corner and cry
Cause no matter how hard I try
When I look into a kid’s eyes
I see the burdens of the world
We don’t cry for the little girls
Who’ve been molested
We don’t cry for the little boys
Who will never make it
beyond their block
When will the buck stop?
We lack the grandma’s
That instilled the fear of Jesus
The grand dads to watch wrestling with
My God don’t we miss the switch…
The ones we had to pick on our own
The mama that makes us
get of the phone
During a rainstorm
Hoping her new boyfriend was
The father you prayed for
We all wanted to be so much more
We all wanted to live long enough
Just to play house,
But instead we play the lottery
Dishing out so much money that
If we actually win
We’re just winning a fraction
Of the money we already spent
Living just enough for the city
Surviving for the first
And the fifteenth of the month
And if we can’t make it
We check into cash
And it’s not until someone dies
That we realize that life moves fast
I’m so glad
That my mother told me
To do what I know is right to do
Struggle to be more
Stay in school
Be more than what I could fathom
But kids today can’t handle
Being pushed forward so fast
That they end up being left behind
No child right?
This poem is for the children
That still dream at night
And see rainbows on my eyelashes
In the sunlight
For the children that will grow up
Seeking the revolution
To be part of the solution
Versus part of the issue
You…
My little ones
Are the mustard seeds
That keeps me alive.

©Eris Zion Venia Dyson All Rights Reserved

Painted Fingers & Toes

The new year has brought to fruition all of my fears of loneliness. I have been craving the attention of the opposite sex. It could be because I'm on vacation with nothing extremely productive to do, and next week this time I will be thrown back into academic hysteria. But for the last month I've watched nothing but formula fiction television, and reflected on the fact that the chances of finding a life partner that I can build a dynasty with is slim to none.

So i figure I should do something for me.

Yesterday I painted my fingers & my toes. Though this is the depths of winter (and no one is going to see these size 12s), this small act became so necessary for me. It reminded me that I am supple; that I am able to be this flexible fluid entity and I don't always have to be so hard... so tough. Especially with myself. I'm ready to allow myself to love and be loved unconditionally and without apology. I'm not saying that I am ready for a relationship. But I am ready to be open and receptive to that possibility... when I graduate.

So I think that when I get this refund check (lol) I might purchase myself a new wardrobe. It's high time that I have an outward reflection of how I feel inside. I love me. And I'm tired of wearing random t-shirts and jeans, and those same busted shoes I kept from my ex-boyfriend in 2003.

I'm ready to give up old Eris. It's time to be more streamline. More concerned about how I feel about me. I want to take me and my education to a professional level so, no matter where I am... mentally I'll be wearing a tuxedo t-shirt "I want to be formal but I'm also here to party." I want to be fashion forward and its for me. I am 23 years old. What have I got to loose? Right now is probably the only time in my life where I can be completely absorbed with me.

I'm tired of faking it til I make it.

Here's an old poem of mines...sort of reflective of my winter break

In that lonely space…

Hugging body pillows
Eyes red
Open space is all that’s left
Eavesdropping on the crickets
Hearing cicada’s converse
I sit alone with my thoughts
With too much pride
To say I’m needy
With too much pride
To say I’m broken
Solitude
Can only be beneficial
If you can live with yourself
In this space
There are very few words
That offer comfort
Very few songs
That will renew faith
Very few thoughts that will
Make the tears stop
So you leave
The lights on
Because even the sun
Has turned its back on you
You watch late night
Infomercials
To feel a little less
By yourself
You flip through
Old photo albums
And old journals
Reliving the good times
And the bad times
Cause even then at least someone was there.
8/9/06

~eZv

Few of The Faves...

When it comes to writing poetry, I've realized that I am a simple poet that loves the simple things of life. I love food, I love music, and I love...well...I love love. So that's what the majority of my poetry revolves around. Sometimes young revolutionaries get so wrapped up in what revolution and liberation should be that we forget about the basics. This must be why I compare my poetry to the likes of Gwendolyn, Nikki, and Lucille. So here are a few of their poems that helped shaped who I am as a writer.

~eZv

We Real Cool
By: Gwendolyn Brooks

We real cool. We
Left school. We

Lurk Late. We
Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We
Die Soon.


cutting greens
By: Lucille Clifton

curling the around
i hold their bodies in obscene embrace
thinking of everyting but kinship.
collards and kale
strain against each strange other
away from my kissmaking hand and
the iron bedpot.
the pot is black,
the cutting board is black
my hand,
and just for a minute
teh greens roll black under the knife,
and i taste in my natural appetite
the bond of live things everywhere.

Invitation
By: Grace Nichols

1
If my fat
wass too much for me
I would have told you
I would have lost a stone
or two

I would have gone jogging
even when it was fogging
I would have weighed in
sitting the bathroom scale
with my tail tucked in

I would have dieted
more care than a diabetic

But as it is
I'm feeling fine
feel no need
to change my lines
when I move I'm target light

Come up and see me sometime

2
Come up and see me sometime
Come up and see me sometime

My breasts are huge exciting
amnions of watermelon
your hands can't cup
my thighs are twin seals
fat slick pups
there's a purple cherry
below the blues
of my black sea belly
there's a mole that gets a ride
each time I shit the heritage
of my behind

Come up and see me sometime

Purpose Statement

Peace & Blessings

This is my new blog that I will be keeping up this year. I will be posting not only poetry, but thoughts, revelations, questions, and a calender of where I will perform. So...there's that. This blog is my attempt to divert the immense addiction I have to myspace & facebook into something more productive. Hope you enjoy!

~eZv