I am happily married and we have two sons whom I love dearly and who are wonderful, funny, creative, loving boys who make me proud. I like to live near the sea.
In the worst hour of the worst season of the worst year of a whole people a man set out from the workhouse with his wife. He was walking—they were both walking—north.
She was sick with famine fever and could not keep up. He lifted her and put her on his back. He walked like that west and west and north. Until at nightfall under freezing stars they arrived.
In the morning they were both found dead. Of cold. Of hunger. Of the toxins of a whole history. But her feet were held against his breastbone. The last heat of his flesh was his last gift to her.
Let no love poem ever come to this threshold. There is no place here for the inexact praise of the easy graces and sensuality of the body. There is only time for this merciless inventory:
Their death together in the winter of 1847. Also what they suffered. How they lived. And what there is between a man and woman. And in which darkness it can best be proved.
by Eavan Boland
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Nah, I wasn't raised at gunpoint And I've read too many books To distract me from the mirror When unhappy with my looks And I ain't got proper diction For the makings of a thug Though I grew up in the ghetto And my niggas all sold drugs And though that may validate me For a spot on MTV And get me all the airplay That my bank account would need I was hoping to invest in A lesson that I learned When I thought this fool would jump me Just because it was my turn
I went to an open space 'Cause I knew he wouldn't do it If somebody there should see him Or somebody else might prove it And maybe in your mind It may seem I got punched out 'Cause I walked a narrow path And then went and changed my route But that openness exposed me To a truth I couldn't find In the clenched fist of my ego Or the confines of my mind Or the hipness of swagger Or the swagger in my step Or the scowl of my grimace Or the meanness of my rep 'Cause we represent a truth, son That changes by the hour And when you open to it Vulnerability is power And in that shifting form You'll find a truth that doesn't change And that truth's living proof Of the fact that God is strange
Talk to strangers when family fails And friends lead you astray When Buddha laughs and Jesus weeps And it turns out God is gay 'Cause angels and messiahs Love can come in many forms In the hallways of your projects Or the fat girl in your dorm And when you finally take the time To see what they're about And perhaps you find them lonely Or their wisdom trips you out
Maybe you'll find the cycle's end You're back where you began But come this time around You'll have someone to hold your hand Who prays for you, who's there for you Who sends you love and light Exposes you to parts of you That you once tried to fight And come this time around You'll choose to walk a different path You'll embrace what you turned away And cry at what you laughed 'Cause that's the only way We're gonna make it through this storm Where ignorance is common sense And senselessness the norm
And flags wave high above the truth And the two never touch And stolen goods are overpriced And freedom costs too much And no one seems to recognize The symbols come to life The bitten apple on the screen And Jesus had a wife And she was his messiah Like that stranger may be yours Who holds the subtle knife That carves through worlds like magic doors
And that's what I've been looking for The bridge from then to now Was watching BET like What the fuck, son? This is foul But that square box don't represent The sphere that we live in The Earth is not a flat screen I ain't trying to fit in But this ain't for the underground This here is for the sun A seed a stranger gave to me And planted on my tongue And when I look at you I know I'm not the only one As a great man once said There is nothing more powerful Than an idea, whose time has come
by Saul Williams
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