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SOMEWHERE THERE IS A POEM
by: Gina Loring
Somewhere there is a poem.
Somewhere coiled around my love but somber like the breeze on a cloudy day, on the edge of sound within the crevice between rational and emotion, huddled beneath the sound of laughter, is a poem, and I want to write this poem I want to speak this poem I want to feel this poem I want to experience this poem--cradle it in my arms, feed it a good meal and send it on its merry way.
Somewhere there is a poem about love and lust and earth and dust, about daffodils and dew drops, welfare niggas bling blingen rocks- homeless men with holey socks, CEOs with phat dread locks and I want to know this poem, I want to sing this poem, I want to sing this poem, I want to (SING)
Somewhere there is a poem screaming get up, stand up, stand up for your rights
Human beings human beings beings being so caught up in the tangible, material, surface they never actually feel, their touch is liquid and grazes right through but misses the core. This poem whispers to me and rocks me to sleep and tells me stories of indigenous people diseased and tricked and slaughtered and made to be extinct but this aint no pterodactyl or tyrannosaurus rex blood flowing through my veins---I am a Creek American Indian. I exist.
I am an African.
I am an old Jewish woman muttering prayers in Yiddish as my name is replaced with a number on my arm.
I am a little Japanese girl staring in horror as my village is bombed and burnt to the ground.
I was born in India but not to the right caste so regardless of what I accomplish I will always be a peasant.
I died in Mexico 3 feet from the border gunned down by evil troops who shoot for a living, who sacrifice their souls for the manmade boundaries of these Americas.
Somewhere there is a poem. Somewhere dozing in subway stations and flying high on the 405 and taking the L through Brooklyn and the 15 to Vegas and the MARTA through Atlanta and cruising down a dark street in Oakland is a poem.
This poem comes from somewhere deep.
Somewhere where the angels sleep, where pixies dance and mermaids weep, where hymns are hummed so God will keep
Us all
In mind on judgment day
This poem warns but does not sway for what you do is up to you
Where you go and who you know, if you close up or if you grow.
Somewhere there is a poem about the insanity, the derangement the audacity, the utter barbarity of war
Hiroshima Hiroshima
Hero, war hero
Hero hero heroine is
Crack cocaine is
The systematic genocide of my people
Brown skin behind bars
Locked up behind bars
Trapped behind bars
Enslaved behind bars
Kept in line behind bars
Counted behind bars
Bars
There are more bars selling alcohol on a single reservation in Oklahoma than in all of Ventura county
County
County me in, cause Im down for the revolution which may not be televised and may not get radio play but it will be told through poetry cause somewhere there is a poem.
It is as strong as a 3,000-year-old redwood observing history, witnessing generations pass through pass by pass by pass pass and never ever notice it.
This poem speaks to me and draws me in like an amusement park to a kid-
I want to freak this poem and dream this poem,
share it with yall-
hold up--- I just did.
Hometown
TRINIDAD, WEST-INDIES
Country
Japan
