Various Observations by Location

After watching The Basketball Diaries with my classes this week, I notice even more differences between people based on their location. It makes me think:

When I went to college one of the only native New Yorkers in New York,
One roommate asked where my accent came from,
One asked if I knew the Wu Tang Clan,
One didn't speak to me because she was mad that 3 of 5 of us were white in such small quarters,
One was date-raped and fled back down south mid-semester.

If I had the chance to get college for free, or my worst worry was that I couldn't get financial aid because mommy and daddy made too much money,
Would I have waited so long to get my own voice heard?
Would I have kept quieter than I have about my own fucked up life?
Would I ever be able to be shocked by anything at all?
Would I have made it to the other side of the desk?

There are so many divisions among them and there really are only two paths:
Success.
and
Failure.

In the city of wooden bridges
they stare at each other like pieces of steak,
Rampant sexuality springing from football fields,
cheering squads,
and my first Honda.
Not lacking for anything at all,
not knowing what it is to go hungry or broke.
Not wondering how they would feel without a winter coat or
brand new UGGs.

In the city of broken bricks
they are lucky they landed in a classroom,
rather than under a freeway or on a corner.
Stumbling in late,
high,
strung,
exhausted from:
homelessness,
babies crying not satiated by WIC and Family First.

In the upper counties they drive cars that I never will,
despite being an MA or down the road
something else.
They have hair extensions and brand new UGGs under miniskirts.
Makeup addled faces imported and looking for a man,
who drives a better car than they do.
Guys hair gelled and spiked,
girls on the prowl for a husband to buy them an acre,
or a rock.

In the urbana down the hill,
they wait for the Go Bus or
they walk thirty minutes to get to class.
They face: homelessness, gangs, addictions,
families that abandon them.
They dorm because it's their only option,
treat their hep-C and emerge
28 year old college freshmen who truly learn something.
How not to die.

Not only are there variations in them but I see a lot of variations I need to make in me.
I can't just go unready for the sixty year old interruptor
and kids with speedy ADD questions
because their phones buzz to pick up that ounce
before they get back to the neighborhood.
Nor can I flip on the kid who calls me by my first name
because he never was taught respect,
for teachers or employers,
especially not for women,
especially not when they're white.

I can't expect them all to get that there is a reason we have a syllabus,
a plan,
some semblance of a schedule to follow.
Yeah the plan is changing daily and the calendar flies by too quick.
Yeah they vary place to place,
but so do I because it's necessary.
Nobody is forcing them to be there?
That is the biggest untruth.
The state pays,
parents pay,
loans don't count right now.
Anything is better than:
homelessness,
giving up custody,
living with a wife-beater,
living on a street corner,
never having chances,
having too many chances cloaked in green times two.
Whether smoking it or spedning it they lose themselves just a little everyday.
Just like I did.
Some recover,
some go home,
some have no home and make a new one.
Some find answers.
I never did.

I don't claim to have solutions,
but the knowledge I claim is harsh.
Burning knowledge that scars and leaves you wondering:
What the fuck just happened?
Did I really make it to where I sit now?
Am I really looking down on myself from a higher plane?
Or is it that I feel different because the truth ran away from me
for so long
and
now
again.

All I can do is plan one day in advance whether it be
jeans to the bricks,
skirt to the burbs,
occasional unnassuming donuts for the hungry,
an ear to the fed up and ready to quit;
or learning to feign surprise that
what was once my 40s and blunts
has become their meth and oxys.

Claiming ignorance gets you nowhere,
but trying to help can get you worse:
attached.

So we do the best we can.
We ask for things like courage and serenity,
because the otherside is too vast
and we are scared of what else lives there.
Rightly so,
but once you get there,
you may just want to return and not have a reset button to press.
You may just want to swim back
but your arms are weighed down
and your legs hurt
and your brain
is exhausted.

Fuck it.
To each his own.
See you on the other side.

Re-Launch

This week is blog re-launch week for me, so feel free to leave feedback & let me know what you think.

As you may know, I have recently moved and HOLY SHIT has it been a journey worth writing about...so I am. A new book is in the works and it will chronicle this insane year of my life. So stay tuned for snippits and updates as I delve into the mix of life in the ...well, we will get to that!

Much love,
Keri
xoxo

p.s.: get inspired: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9bOjc70f4p8

Revival of the Spoken Word

http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/event.php?eid=133946713311801&ref=mf

See above link for info on my event tonight at Alor Cafe:  REVIVAL OF THE SPOKEN WORD.

Hope to see everyone tonight & bring your poems for the poen mic portion of the night!

XO
Keri

Newest Article Posted

Hi All,

See the attached link for my latest article posted to Powder Room Graffiti.

http://www.powderroomgraffiti.com/byte-it/a-new-kind-of-breast-pocket.html

Thanks for your support and enjoy!

Much Love,
Keri

Article Posted on PRG

Hi Friends,

http://www.powderroomgraffiti.com/byte-it/rotten-apples-or-downright-lemons.html

Click the above link to check out my latest endeavor on www.powderroomgraffiti.com
an awesome website for women. I've had the pleasure of my writing appearing there twice now, and thouroughly enjoy all the other writer's content too. Check out the site!


Much Love,
Keri

Placemat Ramblings Part 2

The texture of these chips gets funny with this bleu cheese dip.
Purple Hazy wings and brown speckled celery,
Abita, Gonzo, Sangria and Noir,
Guacamole, salsa, sour cream laced quesadillas,
Trimming the table with friendship and love...
wow that word is in every damn piece I write.
Self expression: write amongst friends on the placemats,
acceptance, peace, comfort round a meal.
It's all right we will all be all right,
at least just for tonight.

All rights reserved
conserved
deserved
to be served.

Resurgences will define our inspired words,
honest hearts,
remembered friends and truth in the everyday we live.
Your home is where your art is,
My home is where my art is,
My art is my identity and makes me whole.
Crazy love defines me.

I am homeless no more.

*compilation meal writings with 3 of my favorite people <3

Love and Exhaustion

I am so exhausted,
my brain is shot,
a tooth is hurting and trying to drink the water i so dearly need...ouch.
Sometimes I sit wondering why I let myself get so upset,
over nonsense that will soon be gone away,
and knowing that things can just be good all the time now,
instead of only once a year or two.
I stare at a blank screen and realize that when I let the words ebb,
I lose the flow.

Keeping promises to myself is so very vital,
especially since I think in terms of ...well... me me me and then tend to do everything for
everyone except me.
This is something I will never stop doing.
Why do I do this?
...you might start to ponder,
 I'll admit I used to wonder too.
But now I know:
love.
Love made me do it.
Love makes me whole.
If I look at everything I have ever done that doesn't just seem to be for me,
it was love that four letter word that I needed to say and hear and know.

I silenced myself because I thought of love.
I let things get too delayed because I thought it was all out of love.
I fall asleep at traffic lights when I'm in love because
love is more necessary to me than sleep.
When a brand new day started I accepted missed calls and confusion,
pushed slightly away and then grabbed back with such passion.
I fall asleep staring at bread wishing I had a home that felt like home to place the groceries snugly into.
I drive aimlessly to buy dental floss at 10pm because I can't stop mentally counting the dollars I need to break free from my sadness.
I walk my dog ten times a day to get out of this prison that presses down on me.
One more month one more month,
few more weeks few more weeks.
All I hear are hopeful things and yet hardly can the hope stay with me when I don't have what I need everyday.

I need those crystal blue mirrors that won't let me lie,
I need those whispers that keep me smiling and sane.
I need to not overanalyze and ask myself why can't time just love me too.
I need to make sure that I'm getting sleep,
I need to do work and I can't
focus is not with me.

I want to not have to make a telephone the medium of thought,
I want to just be safe and comfortable all the time,
I want to talk untill sleep forces my eyes shut and wraps me in your arms,
I want everything when I want it and that would be now.
peace is so close I can feel it.

I don't even know if my words make sense to anyone else.
I don't even know if I have the ebb and flow without tidal waves of emotion,
but the peace saves me.
the love saves me.
and those beautiful blue orbs can see my soul and feed it love.
The love will save me,
it has to.