the brave ones walk anyway

Sasha Banks. Short woman. Shorter hair. Short story. Brown woman writes poems: read all about it, shawty. In case you like what you read, there's a chapbook in it for you! Click the button at the top left :) This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License

[nothingrhymeswithsasha]

Your poem Dear Brown Girl really means a lot to me especially with everything that's happening lately. I recently got a tattoo of the first couple of lines to help remind me that this bullshit happening doesn't make me less and I just want to say thank you for your words. They've meant a lot to me and to my loved ones

Hello there, this is Sasha Banks and I've been MIA from my tumblr for a few years. I just logged on for the first time and saw this sweet and humbling message. I'm so full and happy to know you felt that poem so deeply. I hope that wherever you are, you're still being reminded that despite the fuckery of this country, you matter and beyond that, you can't be stopped. Enormous (and delayed lol) love to you, Sis 💜

[nothingrhymeswithsasha]

The Manifesto

My name is what I make it.

I will consistently define myself: no definition is permanent.

Comparing myself to anyone is a practice in self-destruction that I will not engage. 

No one owes me anything.

I will not apologize for feeling anything that is real and honest.

Out of my mouth will come every good thing, even if it is an ugly truth.

My power is in what I allow to destroy me. 

I choose to forgive all of my past, present, and future selves.

Others may dislike me or may not recognize my light, and that's okay.

It is my responsibility to love me and recognize my light.

My power is in what I allow myself to learn from.

I release every shame.

I will not waste energy on any one person who is incapable of loving me, which only negates all the deep love of so many who surround me. 

Being nice is not a prerequisite to being taken seriously or being heard.

My power is in what I choose to take personally.

I will not sicken my body with malice or unforgiveness by carrying ill will against another inside it. 

I will let go when the time comes. 

I will hold on when the time comes. 

My power is in what I allow myself to bring from the past into the present.

My heart loves savagely; I will not be sorry. 

My fear will not inhibit me; if I am afraid, I will do it afraid.

Courage is not beyond me. 

[halmaan]

we are so afraid to say: ‘God loves me whole, he loves me broken, he loves me queer, he loves me in the stinking pit of my addictions, he loves me drunk off my ass, he loves me broke, he loves me sick, he loves me even when i do not love myself’—- because if we can imagine an expansive love,...

[camonghnefelix-deactivated20151]

I got some new poems in Union Station magazine! I like em.

[nothingrhymeswithsasha]

In which Camonghne Felix gives you that werk, and you learn to deal.

[lati-negros]

Ariana Brown - “Volver, Volver”

"As a child my mother tells me I am African American Mexican."

"48 percent of the world’s Black Population resides in Latin America."

"La Morena, dark like we are."

"Can you still be considered an immigrant if you are traveling to a place that was yours to begin with?"

A beautiful expression of identity, language and memories. 

[anewdirectionpls]

omg that’s me

[nothingrhymeswithsasha]

Interrupting this tumblr hiatus to bring you this stunning gem of a poem by my sister, Ariana Brown. This woman is one half of my heart and this poem is the other. 

[interalia]

Just got off a Google Hangout about poetsforferguson. So excited to see poets of color from across the U.S. sharing poetry for 24 hours!

All donations will go to Missourians Organizing for Reform and Empowerment (M.O.R.E.) to provide protestors with financial support.

There are still spots…

[poetsforferguson]

You heard her.

[nothingrhymeswithsasha]

TOMORROW? 

TOMORROW.

TOMORROW!

***6PM EST Saturday 9/27 to 6PM EST Sunday 9/28.*** 

WATCH at poetsforferguson, or on YouTube (the link will be available on Saturday night). 

DONATE to the protestors of Ferguson here.

Yup. It's goin doooooowwwwwwn on the interwebs.

Tell your homegirls and homeboys.

Then tell 'em again. 

#poetsforferguson

[poetsforferguson]

Michael Brown was an 18-year old boy, shot and killed by Officer Darren Dean Wilson, August 9, 2014 in Ferguson, MO. Officer Wilson rode up to Michael and his friend Dorian Johnson, ordering them to move out of the street and onto the sidewalk. In the midst of an altercation between Officer...

[nothingrhymeswithsasha]

Hey tumblr,

I'm organizing an event called Poets for Ferguson. It's a 24-hour livestreamed event, consisting--exclusively--of poets of color reading poems from 6PM EST on 9/27 to 6PM EST on 9/28. The aim is to raise money for the protestors of Ferguson who've been arrested/charged and need help paying legal defense expenses (i.e., bond, lawyer fees, etc.). 

You can donate here. You can help spread the good word by reblogging. You can watch by following Poets for Ferguson and watching on September 27th/September 28th. Or you can learn how to participate by clicking here.

Inbox me with any questions here**

In love & solidarity,

Sasha

[buttonpoetry]

[buttonpoetry]

Cam Awkward-Rich - “Break-Up Letters” (Rustbelt 2014)

"How could you not be a prophet of your body? How could you stop saying it’s name?" Performing during finals at the 2014 Rustbelt Regional Poetry Slam.

[nothingrhymeswithsasha]

Everything.

[nothingrhymeswithsasha]

A name is a borrowed thing. Some overcoat of flesh your mother saw once, in a book of names. Don't take much to own a name: be born into blood and shit between screams and drawn muscles, this is the swift science of naming. We own names, not always becoming them. They line our back pockets, hang from keys like lucky rabbits' feet. We decide to wear our names, sing our blood back into ourselves. In this, we take back the borrowing; are born to ourselves, belonging to all the breath it takes to say our names above a whisper.

[nothingrhymeswithsasha]

Want

is a splendid thief, filthy rag on the face of Jesus, plucked flower, bleach on my wedding gown. Want is a long finger hooked around the necks of so many perfect things. A pair of full hands and an open mouth. Oh small, small body, I forgive your hungry reach. Ruthless eyes, I forgive your constant swallow. Oh my beautiful heart, you song of and, and, and; you tooth in the vein of every moment—stay with me and be here. It is enough. Everything is enough. Today.

[nothingrhymeswithsasha]

boy; scene one

The boy doesn’t always die. The boy comes home sometimes. The boy doesn’t always die. The boy takes the bus. The boy eats lunch on the porch steps. The boy wants to be beautiful. The boy isn’t always a spilled thing on the pavement. The boy is late for work, sometimes. The boy goes to the movies. The boy wants to be beautiful. The boy kisses his boyfriend’s cheek. The boy kisses his mother’s cheek. The boy isn’t always a pierced heart, an asphyxiated lung, a wrenched jaw, a headline, a memory. The boy wants to be loved. The boy forgets to say his prayers. The boy doesn’t always die. The boy laughs with his mouth open. The boy loses his keys, sometimes. The boy doesn’t always die. He doesn’t always die. The boy falls asleep at the best part of the movie. The boy isn’t always hunted. The boy skips school. The boy isn’t always haunted. The boy wants to be beautiful. The boy wants to be a good thing. He wants to be. The boy smiles on his birthday. The boy eats all the cake. The boy throws the first punch, sometimes. The boy isn’t always dead, in the picture. The boy doesn’t always die, in the story. The boy isn’t always bleeding, in the street. The boy dances at his sister’s wedding. The boy wants to be beautiful. The boy wants and wants and wants. So much. The boy isn’t always an open mouth. The boy claps in church. The boy isn’t always a hungry wound. The boy plays spades in the garage. The boy cuts himself shaving. The boy drinks too much, sometimes. The boy loves. He loves good. The boy isn’t always inside the casket. The boy wants to be beautiful. The boy lies awake at night, sometimes. And he wants to be beautiful.

[teninla]

sophomore summer

[nothingrhymeswithsasha]

timely <3

[nothingrhymeswithsasha]

  SASHA FELLS THE WILDWOOD   i. Mhm. The poplars know how to hold death: keep it still. But I’m swinging the axe. T

Thank you to the folks at B O D Y Literature :)

[nothingrhymeswithsasha]

I want your chapbook please :)

Hey! I want you to have my chapbook, please. 

Click here so both our dreams can come true ;)

[nothingrhymeswithsasha]

P a t i e n c e

[bostonpoetryslam]

The cornrows stitched to your scalp say girl, you just ain’t that lucky. Suddenly, your body is a cathedral of no, shouting at the joints. This is the day you are found by your body. This is the day its black stops hunting you. You, the skeleton on the playground, laughing at white boys without her skin on.

Sasha Banks, “Jimmy is Funny,” published in Kinfolks Quarterly (via bostonpoetryslam)

:)

[nothingrhymeswithsasha]

Hi there! That gifset with your poem 'Dear Brown Girl' is made by me; I hope that's alright, I just loved it so much I wanted to put it on something. I wish I had a link to the poem that'd link to your blog directly, but I did make sure to credit you (and link to the blog where I found it). I can make changes to the post if and as you like, so just say the word. Also, thank you, you are an inspiration. PS: the ladies in the gifs are from 'Supernatural'.

Hey :) It's gorgeous! Thank you so much!! I'm crazy flattered. Make no changes, at all! This is the most unexpected thing lol, but so so welcome :) The internet is a wild place, man. Grateful.