zoladiya-blog

[zoladiya-blog]

Body Of...

It takes the torn pillar of my Spine

 splitting into an aggregate

of Human Purpose, Granite,

Self-Worth, Basalt,

sharks and little fishes,

(the ones who survive the tidal waves)

to move me.  

                                                                                                                           --ZolaDiya

[zoladiya-blog]

Sleepwalk

My stomach had greed

sunny side up

for breakfast.

First thing I do in the morning

is brush my teeth

and sleepwalk

until the sun sets.

I skip lunch just so that I am starving

for dinner.

                                  --Zoladiya

[zoladiya-blog]

Dear Ex,

It’s been a while since we talked.

I haven’t really missed you.

Sometimes I think about you.

But it usually ends in

considerations of

throwing bricks

aimed in your direction.

                                             --Zoladiya 

[zoladiya-blog]

If I had a nickel every time THAT happened, I'd be broke. STOP Equalizing.

Zoladiya

[zoladiya-blog]

                                                       --Zoladiya

[zoladiya-blog]

Voodoo

My days do not revolve around the expansion of your world, boy.

You are not a man to me.

Babies do not understand how to share.

You stand equally distant from

all the outer edges of humanity.

And you want an applause for

how long you made me

and those who look like me believe

that lie.

                  Fool, I made you.

My grandma’s in the kitchen right now

stirring up a remedy for you.

In case you’re wondering,

she didn’t spit in it.

Though, I told her too.

                                                                                     --Zoladiya

                                                                photo by Forgotten Graveyard

[zoladiya-blog]

In Class

Maybe I should not even bother.

I hate when my palms sweat.

I rather go home and re-read the Autobiography of

Malcolm X.

 It sits on a wooden book case

next to this one on Women, Race & Class.

 I met Angela Davis once

      waited in line for 8 hours.

I said I wanted to be like her.

An activist. A scholar.

 So I signed up at Plymouth Rock type,

Youuuu know the Black Boys don’t like

Black Girls type,

Never stepped foot in the hood like

University.

 I hate when my cheeks turn red.

      I’m too light.

So I doodle with my head down instead

of raise my hand. What do I have to loose?

A letter grade.

Or two.

Or three.

 I didn’t forget that day in History.    

I DID NOT.

But Black Girls always starting something.

        let me be quiet.      

                                                                             Fuck That.

                                                         Excuse me mr. professor.

    (And that dumb-ass white boy sitting over there

                                   with his dumb-ass hunting cap)

 “I am Black.

And you,

you just cannot say that.”

                                                                  --Zoladiya

[zoladiya-blog]

That’s How I Know I’m Black

People be questioning my blackness because 

I listen to bands like Parkway Drive. 

THEY BE LOOKING AT ME WEIRD. 

I be at the concerts dancing as if on stage was Lil Wayne.

That’s how I know I’m Black.

I put the Soul in Everything. 

                                                    --Zoladiya

[zoladiya-blog]

Clifford, you know, The Big Red Dog?

I’m talking like the child my mommy still sees in me.

Tantrum lead this strategic plan.

I put glue on your lips when you were sleeping.

My tongue cannot reach out any further.

My Uncle told me if I keep rolling my eyes,

they will get stuck.

But, the quicksand in the box never bothered.

And if I choke on a pacifier instead of loose the rent

when I asphyxiate on Gin,

I won’t be grown until I roll over,

six feet in.

                                                    --Zoladiya

[zoladiya-blog]

--- Zoladiya 

[zoladiya-blog]

Young sisters and brothers gather around.

Have a sit down.

Come watch the show!

Tonight is the night we will blow your mind,

With the best act in town

You won’t want to go!

 Act 1

 Sally Sue pulls a brass trumpet out of her throat, the Sax out her ass

and the flute out her nose.

With a middle finger on the black keys, a thumb on the whites and one foot on the peddle,

She played a jazz better than Ella and Duke, together,

All by herself.  

                                          Curtain closes. Crowd roars.

 Brothers and sisters, it only gets better,

You don’t want to leave.

You will be even more amazed by the next scene!

 Act 2

 Sally Sue banged a sparkling Goblet, as it sat on her head.

She crocheted a quilt with her toes, whilst cooking cornbread.

She turned a copper sheet into a bangle, by soldering with her sweat

And won a game of tennis, using the Great Wall of China as her net.

She did one handed push-ups on the head of a blue jay

while singing “All of Me” by Billie Holiday.

                                                                                         Curtain closes. Crowd roars.

 Sisters and Brothers, she pranced and trotted on the stage without one single whelp.

That’s right ladies and gentlemen, she did it all with no help!!!

 Act 3  

 Shanique walks slowly to the middle of the stage.

She takes a bow and states:

“Thank you. Thank you all for who have come to seek,

if you want to see it done better,

I preformed this Act last week”

                                                              -- Zoladiya 

[zoladiya-blog]

But Not No More

I’ve walked to the beat of Slight

on the wrong side of the road.

My feet told my head the drums were missing,

but my pace never slowed.

 Through the Battle

where the Bull Runs

pass my very nose,

Oblivion beat the Conscious

down to my toes.  

                                                               ---Zoladiya 

Painting by Frank Morrison 

[zoladiya-blog]

There is a general tendency in the United States to define problems of censorship as essentially foreign problems

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

[zoladiya-blog]

I’m at the airport in Nairobi and I don’t see a single Cosmopolitan around! 

:-)  Good.  

                                                                       --Zoladiya

[zoladiya-blog]

Ugandan girls in school. 

                                   --Zoladiya

[zoladiya-blog]

The San people of the Kalahari Desert are believed to be the original human inhabitants of sub-Saharan Africa. They are known as the San people and have unique “click” languages. The San are hunter-gatherers and some of them still survive in small numbers, few groups in Namibia, where they are the poorest of the poor.

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Reblog if you think public libraries are important and should be maintained.