Spoken Word

Spoken Word

Thursday, January 23, 2014


Searching this census,
of lives dearly departed,
peering through windows of the past,
tracing back to where we started,
Keeping up with the Jones's
Shepards, Henrys, Hollands,
Tidwells, Lindsays, Owens,
Lees, and the Bass,
Rear facing, riding shotgun,
on a train going backward fast,
Tear tasting, reunions with family,
who thought their dreams,
were bound to last,
Past tracing, like sci-fi,
searching with a passion for the past,
to find love ones 
who refuse to die.

victori~ April 2, 2012 ©

An Obstacle Course

Head over heels,
vaulting the poles,
jumping through hurdles,  
skipping the holes.

Scaling the walls,
swinging the ropes,
slithering the crawl,
sliding the slopes,

from worse to better,
from better to worse,
in this together,
this obstacle course,

Neither side taking first,
then after all these years,
of not going to win,
of not going to place,
of nothing to show,
but tears on a face,

we've drawn the line,
it's the end of the race,
we're just marking time,
let's stop running in place.
it's time to go!

victori~ 2010 ©

Sunday, January 12, 2014

On being called the N' word…almost

Hold that thought!
that thought peering from your eyes,
that thought that perspires,
your surprise!
Contain that thought,
that thought swimming 
through your mouth,
that thought strangling
you with doubt,
Catch that word!
that word flying in my face,
that word that's escaped
your lips in haste.


Now in fact you've pulled a trigger,
of a shotgun in my brain,
anger's shooting from my temples,
anger's bursting through my veins,
and urge oils my joints,
that my patience can't restrain,
I'm living four-hundred years of oppression,
and you are bearing blame,
my pores perspire torture,
my limbs instigate maim.

My ancestors free beside the Congo,
were suddenly put in chains,
my nerves begin to thunder,
my tear ducts threaten rain,
and my spirit becomes a storm,
that no dam can contain,

I see you as a baby,
a mere child in your prime,
and I as mother Africa,
chastising your naughty crime,
I see you building fires,
in the midst of an icy brine,
while Africans in Southern Africa,
were digging copper mines,
and Blacks in upper Egypt,
were building immortal shrines.

All over Western Africa,
learning centers thrived,
Sankore arose and Djenne,
and Mansa Musa arrived,
on the throne of Songhay,
while Europe's books were shut,
and Greece prohibited learning,
and Rome the question, "what?"
As you burned books,
so nobody could read the pages,
and blindly stumbled through the Dark Ages!

You stumbled through the gloom,
from the Caucasus to Spain,
we healed your deadly wound,
and lit your path again,
and now you call me nigger 
a byword I despise,
I can feel the  fearful envy,
oozing from your eyes,
I can see the ignorance
that you hold inside,
so my anger turns to tolerance,
and my pain turns into pride!

victori~ sometime in Feb 1997 ©

United Spirits

If we could unite the 2 of us
The me of us with the you of us.
Take the less of us and make a few of us,
Combine the best of us to find the true of us.

Go beyond the I's of us to the breath of us,
Beyond the looks of us, to the depths of us,
Above the heights of us, to what's right with us,
Under the weight of us to what makes us us,

To create 1 of us that makes 3 of us,
1 who will have your tenaciousness, and 1 my loquaciousness
Your sensitivity and my resiliency,
sort through whatever makes us even or odd,
We'll have united our spirits,
We'll have created a God!

Victori~3-24-2000 ©

God Willing

If I know God,
male and female HE,
androgynous SHE.
amoeba-like THEY,
able to reproduce themselves, at will,
If I know God,
all powerful SHE,
all encompassing HE,
all mighty THEY,
They kicked the A' out of Kaos,
and created the Kosmos at will,
If I know God,
a proton SHE,
an electron HE,
a neutron THEY,
a burst of atomic energy,
igniting every living being, at will,
If I know God,
Evil SHE,
Good HE,
uninhibited THEY,
making love or war, at will,
If I know God,
Infinite SHE,
Absolute He,
Immortal THEY,
able to reincarnate themselves, at will,
If I know God,
Spirit HE,
Soul SHE,
Physical THEY,
traversing the flesh at will,
If I know God,
Like SHE,
Unlike HE,
Opposite THEY,
accepting their differences but continually attracting, at will,
If I know God,
Human HIM,
Angel HER,
Fallible THEY,
prone to make mistakes and learn from them, at will,
If I know God,
You, HE,
Know Yourself and you'll know God, at will.

Victori~May 9 1991 ©


I'm sure I'd know you anywhere,
from a distance, within a crowd,
or behind the similar smile we share,
Even if we were banshees in the wild,
I'd know you beneath a burial shroud.
under a deep dark cloud,
even if I'd been abandoned as a child,
left in some deserted place,
your familiar ways, your style and grace,
I'd feel a twinge of familiarity the first time I saw your face.

If I was the captive of a melody,

ransomed by the chorus,
If I were potter's clay,
without form, an amorphous,
If I were raised by a company of wolves, in a forest,
on a distant shore, in outer space,
and on the day of my birth,
Neptune aligned with Jupiter,
and the moon was in Taurus,
I would seek for you on the face of the earth.
and we'd be kin the second we'd embrace,

I'm sure I'd know you anywhere,

If I were a rich man,
and you a poor pauper,
If you were a bastard son,
I'm certain to be the father,
if you were a mother,
I'd be your daughter,
Or I were a commoner,
and your birthright was proper,
Even If I had been adopted by another,
I wouldn't be fooled so easily,
I'd extend my hand and call you brother,
because we are family

Victori- September 17, 2001©

Friday, January 10, 2014

A tribute to Everett Leroi Jones

Sometimes I talk to myself too,
no really I do... talk to myself,
this is something you don't know about me,
sometimes when walking on a deserted street,
or driving alone, in my car,
I talk to myself.

Does that make me crazy, or what?
Or does it make you crazy to listen?
because right now I'm talking to myself,
but truly, it's not mine,
but your own voice, that you're hearing,
It's the duty of a poet,
to recite the sacred word
to anyone who listens.
if only on his knees,
into his own clasped hands.

I pray loudly too, because
And I ask him to send us love.
And he does, he sends it,
but we don't see it,
It never last,
we can't grasp it,
It appears in the form of a poet,
but we never know it,
until he's gone,
and we read his twenty-volume 
suicide note,
and find love between the lines,
that he wrote,
For those who loved and lost,
its better, but for those who never,
love its cold,
write down to the letter,

A poet once said,
love is an evil word,
turn it around and see,
An evol word,
But for me, I say love is,
a paradox of bitter and sweet,
and cupid an honery little devol
to all those who loved you Amiri Baraka!