Hood Spotlight: Paterson, NJ (For Genesis Rincon #RIP) - a Tanka poem

Hood Spotlight: Paterson, NJ
(For Genesis Rincon #RIP 7.5.14)

Future’s bright, life’s good
Scooting to store in my Hood
Lost-ones. Shots. Screech. Cops.
Scattered shells, scooter fell - screams!

End scene - Never made thirteen

Tara S. Gause
© 2014
All Rights Reserved

Hood Spotlight: Charlotte, NC (For Jonathan Ferrell #RIP) - a Tanka poem

Hood Spotlight: Charlotte, NC

(For Jonathan Ferrell #RIP 9.14.13)

*knock!-knock!-knock!* "Please help"

Crashed male at Bradfield Farms door

THREAT! Sound the alarm

Bullets swarm due to dark hue

Flag flown half-staff at FAMU

Tara S. Gause

© 2014

All Rights Reserved

#LastWords (For Eric Garner #RIP) - a Tanka poem

#LastWords
(For Eric Garner #RIP 7.17.14)

Died by homicide
Cig man, loving Dad of six
NYPD pricks
with God complex chokehold neck
Last words received – “I can’t breathe” 

Tara S. Gause
© 2014
All Rights Reserved

#LastWords (For John Crawford III #RIP) - a Tanka poem

#LastWords
(For John Crawford III #RIP 8.5.14)

Just shopping while Black
Young man, toy gun in hand – BANG!
Bloody. Walmart. Floor.
These three words spieled - "It’s not real"
Killed! Cop blows smoke off hot steel  

Tara S. Gause
© 2014
All Rights Reserved

Hood Spotlight: Ferguson, MO (For Mike Brown #RIP) - a Tanka poem

Hood Spotlight: Ferguson, MO

(For Michael Brown #RIP 8.9.14)

“My hands up, don’t shoot!”
BANG! times 6 – no weapon found
4 hours on ground
U.S. propaganda prey
Absent - St. Lou U first day

Tara S. Gause
© 2014
All Rights Reserved

Resignation

Resignation

Ignorance isn't always bliss
especially - This
This trickery…
It hurts my heart
and at times
makes me cry
When I see their self-hatred
in the pupil of my eye
They who curse me
They who snicker and stare
They who spew unpleasantries
about my natural hair
- OUR natural hair
My textured tresses they share
Yet their shame is clear and evident
by their "chemical" assimilation
co-signing the label of
inferiority onto the Black Nation
And they are disgusted by me?
In ignorance they dwell
Deceived and lovin’ it
Trembling
too afraid to be themselves
Conditioned and ill (3x)
Group-think controls their minds
Twisted and confined
Mentally imprisoned
on how beauty is defined
Notice every other tribe
wear their hair
in its natural state with pride
Because they know
there is no shame
in God’s organic designs
Yet in these modern times
the dance and song
between the
Jiggaboos and the Wannabes
is newly crooned along
Dripping wet with bloody sweat
hoarse and coarse
they sing
and boorishly maintain
When in our mane
there is regal beauty
Our African follicles
exude originality in
their kink, coil, curl, and loc
It’s clear self-hatred has
their perception blocked
To emulate is to self-hate
To impersonate is to pretend
To assimilate is to conform
- to blend in
Back up and come again
Daughters of the Motherland
our Creator made no mistake
in our blueprint and construction
Halt this hatred and launch the loving
Renounce the disgrace of
-The straightened coils
-The weaved hair
-The fake nails
-The false lashes
-The phony eye color
- The bleached skin
When will the destruction
of self end?
Wandering unconsciously
Zombies
Living as frauds and hoaxes
The superlative beauty of the
original man is out of focus
Free your mind and
your hair will follow
Like Neo, choose the red pill
and swallow
Break free from the confines
within your minds
Embrace your unedited phyne
God’s ideal design
From Western society’s
perception of beauty
- Resign

 Waaaaakke Uuuuuuuppp!!! ~Dap from School Daze

Tara S. Gause aka Poetic Goddess Tara Shenéa
© 2010. All Rights Reserved

To read your own mind is to look at yourself and read your soul.
Hatred becomes love and that is the path I am working on. ~Richard Gere

A Jew, a white among whites, can deny that he is a Jew, declaring himself a man among men. The Black cannot deny that he is black nor claim for himself an abstract, colorless humanity; he is Black. Thus he is driven to authenticity: insulted, enslaved, he raises himself up. He picks up the word "Black" ["Negro"] that they had thrown at him like a stone, He asserts his blackness, facing the White man, with pride. ~Jean-Paul Sartre

Juneteenth (Freedom) - an ekphrastic poem

"Freedom" by Kadir Nelson

*Inspired by the above artwork (Ekphrasis)


Juneteenth (Freedom)

You see these hands…
they knows the pricks from cotton leaves of this foreign land
You see these eyes…
they know the cries of 6 sons sold
One snatched right outta my arms, only a few years old
If you could see my back…
it would show you the pain from that day
When Massa Joe Redding took the only man I ever loved away
You see that there tree…
it knows the weight of his lifeless remains
He was a warrior from the Igbo tribe
His name was Chidumaga, not slave
Massa called him Beast ‘cuz he couldn’t tame him with the lash
So he beat him bloody, strung him up and skinned him ‘live
to show us White wrath
You see that sun up in the sky…
it was hiding behind rain clouds on the day I called slave
My home is Ghana, my name is Mawusi but he named me Camilla Faye
They say some soldiers come into town today with words
that we no mo' slave, but free
Free to walk away from all we know of this land
Free to just be free-woman or free-man
But where can I go?
I would like to go home but I come by ship
I scared I may die this time for the ride made me deathly sick
Ellis say North is best for free…
But how can I get there, I can’t read
Alls I know is cotton from sun up to sun down
Never even been to town…
Clara Jane say town is up the road and over yonder somewhere
I reckon I’ll walk with the others there
But I fear nightfall, ‘cuz I’ll have to sleep in the woods under the trees
With all the snakes and wild animals looking for food to feed
But I’z free…
So I’ll walk North at night guided by the brightest star above
I’ll walk hand to heart with Yahweh's guidance and divine love
I’ll make it North
I’ll just keep my mind stayed on thee
My boys, I believes they too is free
I’ll go searching the rest of my days for them
I hope they too will be looking for me

Tara S. Gause aka Poetic Goddess Tara Shenea
© 2009. All Rights Reserved

.

Who am I?

Who am I?

I am African blood + unknown = x
I am diluted…
Wishing to be pure
Wishing to be more… like you…
Wishing to be painted in your exact hue
Envying you
With all sincerity
Coveting your level of purity
For this shade of skin leaves me pondering
And guessing…
Seeking answers
Vexing…
Over this mysterious truth that…
I am African blood + unknown = x
I am ambiguous and complex
My melanin is less
My ancestry has been breached and modified
I’ve heard I’m of Indian descent
But am I Santee or Chicora tribe?
It has also been said that I too am French
Perhaps, a Louisiana Purchase descendant?
It is known that great-great granddaddy Roy
Had blue eyes, 6 girls, and 11 boys
And yet there is more…
His parents came to Ellis Island from
either Sweden or Switzerland’s shore?
Were unsure…
I am African blood + unknown = x
I am diluted…
Wishing to be pure
Wishing to be more… like you…
Wishing to be painted in your exact hue
Envying you
With all sincerity
Coveting your level of surety
For this shade of skin leaves me pondering
And guessing…
Seeking answers
Vexing…
Over this mysterious truth that…
I am African blood + unknown = x

Tara S. Gause aka Poetic Goddess Tara Shenéa

© 2009. All Rights Reserved.

There is a Castle...

Lambert Castle, West Paterson, NJ

There is a Castle…
(To Paterson, I love you)

Sire,

There has been a change on Temple Hill…
The challenge of walking up is distracted now
By infectious ills
Coughed up by Northside naughty neighbors
The Silk City has become rough and gritty…
And the quality of life force within is the pity
The spread of hopelessness has run amok
In thine beloved city
Your adored sculpture of Beaux-Arts
Nestled in the valley’s heart
Where inner villages are triangle bent
Project tenements
are on Grand streets,
Cobblestone history under feet
and Park prestige in the East
And…
On a clear day
If you look towards the sky,
You can see the realm of the Four Towers
Nestled behind dual drawbridges
Embraced by the great falls river stream
Yet,
Like the stream, full and raging in Spring
The Peoples tears are flooding River Street
Rounding out Putnam’s oval like 10th Avenue circle
And swelling over the walls of the Blue Palace
Messenger Ginsberg’s Howl is now a growl!
They have forgotten to love her sire – with a kiss
Forgotten bard Williams', torah of love, for her populace
They have forgotten to believe, Sire
That they are within her Kingdom
They need a beacon of hope to guide them
Through the shadows of despair and civil unrest
Belief that even dreams deferred can manifest
Shall I point them towards the view in the West?
Where within the slopes of Garrett Mountains peaks
There is a reminder…
That – Royalty
indeed
walk these streets

There is a Castle…

And…

Wherever there is a castle – there is a Kingdom!

Tara S. Gause aka Poetic Goddess Tara Shenéa

© 2008. All Rights Reserved.