Spoken Word by Savannah Campbell
We aren’t safe out here.
We aren’t safe in our black hoodies, or our black skin.
Whether we hold an office or clean one, we will only ever be the color of our skin.
We’ve come so far but we still get shot down by bullets and by words and a collection of slurs.
Cause it’s okay for my white friend to call me the “N” word like it’s not a lash from the past.
And I shouldn’t even claim her to be.
Because your inclination towards rap music makes you “blacker” than me?
But will your brothers and fathers ever be shot, while unarmed, by police?
Or have their history celebrated 29 days, on a good year, out of 365?
What about being called “ghetto” for simply existing?
Getting followed around convenient stores?
Consciously thinking about what you wear before you leave the house for the fear that someone will perceive you as a thug before they know your name?
I don’t care if you can rap every Nicki verse ever, verbatim, I don’t care about your dreadlocks, what neighborhood you grew up in, how many black friends you have. You can’t steal my culture without burdening what it truly and fully means to be black. You don’t want that. Continue reading
by Joshua Sponaugle
Still, it was hard to find you.
I saw the signs, they seemed so close.
But, these faces and places told me “detour”
I was so close, I could almost see your front door.
Around I went, the GPS battery spent,
I’ve asked 6900 people were I could find you.
Some pointed at crosses, some quiet from losses,
some pointed at green ponies… I ended up
stumped in a cacophony of confusion. Continue reading
by Joshua Sponaugle
Lonely people wait on anything at all to give them hope to breathe
The voices of the wise have cunningly vanished
Loud angry men have in their divisive nature
forgotten the supreme importance of accepting our reflection amidst the sea.
Joy is a great moment of pause from the cosmic
dissonance of the death of the soul, a flicker of apricity.
From the question of “why at all”, we have come
to brutalize and sanction undeniable wrong.
Lest we live in woe and deny ourselves of these few
as they may be, moments to scream “Me!” they
are plenty and just as many as they ought be. Continue reading