Dark Fountain Speaks

From the soul

[darkfountainspeaks]

coronation

my mother calls her boyfriend her "King" I wonder how many of her golden pieces did she break apart to create his crown

[darkfountainspeaks]

#motheroftheyear

Toya Graham, a Black mother in Baltimore, was seen slapping her teenage son after catching him at the protests against the death of Freddie Gray, who died of severe spinal injury exactly one week after being arrested by police in the city. 

People have lauded her reaction, with the Baltimore police commissioner Anthony Batts commenting: 

“I wish I had more parents who took charge of their kids tonight”

Graham responded that she didn’t want her son to be a Freddie Gray. 

Toya, your pain as a parent was enjoyed by news anchors and people on Yahoo comments. 

When you first held your child in your arms, you saw a future teacher, or lawyer, or doctor. 

You didn’t see a hashtag. 

The pain of delivering a hashtag must be unbearable. 

You feel scraping in your uterus, wondering if this is what your ancestors felt when they saw their children thrown in the bayous of the deep south as gator bait by white hands. 

You wonder if this is what your cousins felt when they were forcibly sterilized in prison a few years ago. 

You saw your child grow up until he is now 16. 

A Black boy. 

Beautiful and dangerous. 

You hear that a Black man was shot. You worry that it’s your child. He comes home, and you want to keep him there. 

To keep him safe. 

Then you remember Aiyana Stanley Jones in Detroit, a little Black girl still wearing barrettes killed in her home by police in the middle of the night. 

You imagine her in Barbie pajamas. 

Hearing the praise from Commissioner Batts, you wonder if he realizes you were protecting your son from him. 

[darkfountainspeaks]

I haven't posted anything in a while

That changes today

[darkfountainspeaks]

More Poems to come

And soon!

Topics include: racism, street harassment, sex, black women, natural hair, and advice to 19 year old women

[darkfountainspeaks]

Dear Future Girlfriend

Dear Future Girlfriend

My body is a mess

It has scars in the shape of abandoned train tracks

They remind me where I once was

I was afraid to let you see them

People run away when they think the train is coming

But I assure you, these tracks have no trains

There are now flowers growing there

And wildlife

I am alive again

My head is a mess

Sometimes it gets dark

And the clouds come again

And thunder rolls in

And the songbirds stop singing

And the tulips close

And I think I can hear a train coming

But then you kiss me

And the clouds go away

And the thunder stops

And I realize that train is on another track

And the bird come back

And the flowers bloom

When I met you I could have sworn you controlled the weather

How else could you make the flowers bloom?

[darkfountainspeaks]

No More Chasing

I want love

Love that could shake the earth

Love that could move mountains

I want to be kissed for hours at a time

For someone to want me as much as I want them

And in the same manner

I’m tired of chasing after people who don’t know how to love me

My breath is heavy from all that running

Let me take a break

Come find me

I’m the tall girl with the glasses and dreadlocks

Standing awkwardly in the corner

But I won’t be waiting forever

I want to travel the world

And standing in one place for years won’t help me do so

So come find me soon

[darkfountainspeaks]

Bedtime Story

When I was a little girl, my mother read me bedtime stories about princesses

She was always a pretty white girl in distress

A handsome prince came to rescue her with his shiny armor and white horse

And they rode off into the sunset

To live happily ever after

That was never an option for me

Black women are not allowed to be dainty

We can’t be rescued

Our demons aren’t as easily defeated

We struggle with insecurities from the day we were born

Since the doctor told announced

“It’s a girl!”

Since we were only given images of blonde haired-blue eyed girls to look up to

That girl in the storybook wasn’t me

Her hair was too straight

Skin too fair

Hips too narrow

Give me a story about a Black princess

Let Prince Charming climb up Rapunzel’s braids

Only to be told that she’s come up with a plan of breaking out of her castle

And that she doesn’t need his help

Give me a queer princess

Two dark skinned women in dresses riding off together

Armed to fight the heterosexist patriarchy

That would be a good bedtime story

[darkfountainspeaks]

Love Language

I am not a cup of water you can drink when you are thirsty

I am whole, Black, and magnificent

You take more resources that you give back

Do you understand the imbalance you give me?

I need to love and be loved

And all your “I’m sorry”s are weighing me down

I give out too much love to you and don’t receive any in return

Love is my home language

And you trying to speak it sounds like an infant’s gurgling

Come back when you learn it

[darkfountainspeaks]

I am beautiful & belong to myself

I am wondrous

& magnificent

& deep

& complex

[gardenfulloflavender]

an apology letter to my body

Like Ms. Badu said, I’m an artist and I’m sensitive about my shit. Here it goes

an apology letter to my body

1. You were never a mistake. You were fearfully and wonderfully made. Every stretch mark painted on. Every hair planted perfectly.

2. The beautician told you that you needed a relaxer because your hair wouldn’t sit down. It was too unruly and maybe if you straightened your hair you’d find a nice black man. Your hair is magnificent. It breaks combs, doesn’t allow people to idly run their hands through it, no you cannot touch it, it is defiant.

3. Your hips were too wide for him to wrap around his narrow mind.

4. After you put the razor to your skin trying to cut the ugly out, you got scar tissue that made it hard to cut again. You are tougher than the blade ever was.

5. She kissed your scars and called you beautiful. You wondered if she was lying.

6. Thunder thighs is not an insult. Your thighs are powerful enough to shake the earth.

7. She wasn’t lying.

[darkfountainspeaks]

March 8, 2014

To The Woman Who Loves You Next

Run

[darkfountainspeaks]

March 1, 2014

An Ode to Cajun Chicken Pasta

Cajun chicken pasta

Cajun pasta with chicken

Chicken cajun pasta

Cajun style pasta with chicken

You perk up my Sunday morning brunch

You burn out Saturday night regrets with your spicy flavor

You're perfect for Sundays

Much better that the tequila lime chicken and lime jello combo that makes my hangover have a hangover

When you come in the middle of the week, you're a surprise delight

Oh cajun chicken pasta, you're the best chicken phenomena at Brown

CFF has nothing on you

So I salute you, cajun chick pasta, for your coveted seat at last meal in the Ratty

You spiraling spicy spectacle

[gardenfulloflavender]

Untitled

She told me she liked her women submissive

Liked them to twist and turn at her will

I have never been anyone’s Barbie doll

My body could never fit the mold

But I have been someone’s plaything

She tried to bend my strength like a ragdoll

But I was too rigid

I wouldn’t melt in her hand like she wanted

I wasn’t her Chicago winter icicle in the Rio summer heat

I wouldn’t become her blank canvas

I was already working on my on my own masterpiece

And even if it looked like kindergarten scribbles

It was mine

I refuse to shrink myself in order to make someone else look taller

I stand 5’5”, 240 pounds, with 46 inch hips

My body demands I take up space

I will no longer contort myself to fit someone else’s idea of perfect

I am not princess charming climbing up Black Rapunzel’s braids to save her

I’m a bit busy saving myself

This is not just a poem

This is my damn revolution

Because rainbows weren’t revolutionary enough

I created my own colors

And I’m still working on my masterpiece

And my scribbles are becoming more defined

So when she told me she liked submissive women

I showed her broken pedestals 

And told her I no longer place anyone above myself

[gardenfulloflavender]

February 22, 2014 Poem #1

God don’t come here no more

The walls are bare and the carpet’s gone

This used to be a home

There were flowers in the garden

Lavender

Now every seed planted yields nothings

This ground is cursed

And the poison seeps into the house

This used to be a home

There was music playing

People dancing

Girlfriend loving

Then the darkness came

And the songbird died

This is unholy ground

This used to be a home

Paintings of Black excellence on the wall

Sweet smelling kitchen

Until someone came in the middle of the night

And took all my stuff

Left the house smelling like tobacco and regrets

Burned all the flowers

And I should have kept the door locked

[gardenfulloflavender]

February 22, 2014 Poem #2

For Women Whose Thighs Touch

They say you’re pretty for a fat girl

That you’d be gorgeous if you lost a little weight and 

Maybe you shouldn’t eat that cookie.

Devour them

But don’t consume their ideas that all women should have a thigh gap

Your touching thighs just bring you one step closer to being a mermaid

Hold a funeral for Barbie

Because it is a fact that if she was real she wouldn’t be able to stand up straight

And you don’t bend for anybody