Slam poetry 22 jump stree-zumbi
Slam poetry 22 jump stree-

Slam poetry:

I receive a hashtag cross-stitched with
my own tongue and spine and deliver an
update from the other side I died and
lived to tell about it
live to tell and beat a tale told after
the fact I was starving for applause so
loud that I could hear it from
underground but now I am full of wicked
spirit question if I am black and refuse
to ask for permission does that make me
dead already

if my throat is thirsty for a Red River
Revolution does that make me the anomaly
they warned you about the word zombie
first appeared in the English language

Slam poetry 22 jump stree-zumbi
Slam poetry 22 jump stree-zumbi

and reference to Zumbi king of a 17th
century settlement of fugitive Africans
in Brazil the language gogo gives us
the words in zombie meaning God and
zombie meaning fetish object of
irrational devotion and zombie breath
crept up on enslaved Africans and Haiti
scarlet Sun holds its tongue and I fear
getting stuck somewhere between hell and
gone when

 I first appeared in American
cinema they called me ghoul flesh-eating
demon of Arabic folklore derived from a
glad meaning to curse to see I just
crashed the Crypt stole back my own body
this object of irrational devotion
nowadays I hold myself the way only 
a casket can imagine this
to be reanimated Malcolm-x of Mosiah
silly Harriet Tubman tintype come to
life and we be busting bodies that

Slam poetry 22 jump stree-zumbi
Slam poetry 22 jump stree-zumbi

broken words

breathe lilac lily and late to the party
non-black a lie ship asthmatic because
violence is never the answer until you
start asking the right questions and me
am starving so when my jaw comes
unhinged and my cake a cake gets gotta
got her to know that the dead have risen
long before the outbreak black death
they buried and taunted us with
individual eulogies the gall of the
living to make one story into many

 I have been a laboratory and come out mad
scientist what I mean is the only way to
kill a ghoul is to strike it dead in one
blow for the second blow breathes life
back into it so count how many times you
the blood dripping from my teeth and if
every flinch is a wound then that
raspberry crimson in the corner of my
mouth tastes nothing like me
Slam poetry 22 jump stree-zumbi
Slam poetry 22 jump stree-zumbi

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