I believe that it's true testament to the Age that such lovely Poets as Alysia are being born into the Art form. We exist in a time where Children are growing up on Music Videos and the Internet, and their actions will reflect that. So for young Poets and Writers to emerge out of this Age is truly incredible. And welcome. We have to give thanks to Slam Poetry Competitions such as the Annual Youth Speaks' Brave New Voices Slam Poetry Competition, because most of these amazing individuals are spawned from there. And Alysia is one of those amazing individuals. I live in South Africa, where Slam Poetry as a culture is only at its origins of growth, so i've often had to look abroad to satisfy my Love for it. And that's how i came across Alysia. One of the main things that draws you to her is her understanding of Slam as a performance Art. Your body often has to do as much as your words. And of this, she is a Master. Don't be fooled, her Literature packs a punch. Dripping with the kind of passion that can only be engendered from a serious Love for the Art. And i believe that in the same way that Poets such as Sunni Patterson or Bassey Ikpi that came before her, she'll pave the way for those to come as well. Ladies and Gentlemen, Alysia Harris.
'That Girl' by Alysia Harris
We got that waiting in the clinic silence. That shhh dont tell nobody what we did silence and Im so tired of being your hamper that Im about to dump out those week old stained ketchup secrets and do laundry in that silence you like keeping. But my vagina is not your walk in closet. You wanna stuff your doubts through me, wanna place to hang up you insecurities, want me to keep check of you hami downs and prada, waiting for every occassion to put me back behind closed doors and lock me in the darkness. Nobody knows you hold my hand and nobody knows I call you baby and nobody know you write annonymous poems about me the type you cant post on Facebook. Because regardless of what you may think, Im worth more than you deserve. I will never be that girl, the girl thats only allowed to make you smile when she´s making you orgasm, that girl whose day job is daydreaming waiting for her night job. That girl who´s so in love she´ll turn her body over for your superficial touch. You hide me behind lock doors and bedsheets because if you dare reached out then everybody would still know that it was still about me. So that in your heart and in your mind your still wrapped up in me.
My teardrops you own them, my hearts says you got them tied around your pencils and figures. Yea, you may say it´s over and you may never tell me that you love me but you dont have to cause your silence speaks volume. You wanna hold me in your arms rock me to sleep then act like you dont know me. As if the moments we spent together are some kind of down payment. As if my bedroom were lay away and thats all you ever do is layaway roll up beside me but in the morning pull up the hoodie and run the other way. Im like that bastard child the reason Daddy never stucka round in the first place but for me rejection doesn´t come every other weekend.. It comes when you lower your head and pass by without speaking and I remember there was a time you could barely take your eyes off me.
I just dont understand why its not okay for you to love me. I guess you just want me to be that girl. . the girl everbody wants to sleep with but nobody wants to be with. That girl whose only good enouch for finding a suitable replacement. And not trying to make up for the mistake but you try to convince yourself that she means everything and you want nothing to do with me but come on baby she looks just like me. Read the signs or at least the facial features cause I was your first, your only, the prototype and she´s just a duplicate and you can never make copies without first consulting the blueprint! 
You know what they say the sequel is never better than the original. And she tries to write you stories but their only half as good, so half squinting you only hold her half as tight as you should. Cause your other half is tangled between my bedsheets, and your other half is complete within my mind, soul, and body, and your other half is french tonguing me Monday through Firday. Im not fighting for joint custody. Im fighting for RESPECT cause I will never be content with being your back door hoe. Your something on the side, your something to do on those lonely weekends, your closet freak. You will never produce me to be a skank and a whore that will love you. Id rather spend everynight crying alone on my bedroom floor than to ever be "that girl".
No comments:
Post a Comment