Aldermanic Poetry Reading & Open Mic by Sura, December 25

Aldermanic Poetry Reading & Open Mic
Friday, February 15, 2008, 7pm
Woodland Pattern, 720 E. Locust

Eight candidates for Alderman were invited to address Milwaukee’s 3rd District voters, not with speeches - with poetry!

Here are two of my poems:

I Love America
(Dedicated to the People of Lebanon, Palestine, Afghanistan and Iraq)

Your
supersonic love
spans the distance
spans the oceans
comes to greet us
in the morning

Your
supersonic love
roars through skies
whistles its song
punctures the air
tells us what’s wrong
and drops like rain

Your
supersonic love
comes in so many flavors
tomahawk missiles
stealth bombers
apache helicopters
shock and awe

Your
supersonic love
spreads democracy
in the same wind
that scatters depleted uranium
and ensures birth defects
your love sets up elections
announces human concern
while creating a humanitarian crisis

Your
supersonic love
crosses borders
creates checkpoints
builds walls
and bulldozes houses with the inhabitants still in them
because a free nation
must defend itself
against terrorists

Your
supersonic love
told me a story
about
America the Great
and I suckled at the breast of freedom and justice
drinking in tales of life, liberty and the land of opportunity
but the pursuit of happiness
is a hard-core sport that needs to be won
and is just dressed-up fascism that says
“kiss your children goodbye.”

So I kiss them good night
and your supersonic love
tucks them in
and kisses them awake
with post traumatic stress disorder
nightmares and night sweats
and out-of-control sobbing

Your supersonic love
is always with us
calls in the morning
with a rumbling greeting
that shakes the whole house
comes in the evening
like rioting constellations
lighting up the sky
and will be here in the days to come
with yet one more funeral
for the ones I love
.

For the Other Black Cat

Coming home I see a small, black cat, a few houses down.
Scared and running.

Is that Kushi, my black cat?
I panic.

Inside, I look.
Here she is safe at home, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
My cat.
My cat who wouldn’t know what to do, how to survive outside.
My cat who needs food and shelter and love and warmth.
Not like that street cat.

I look up “Arab” in the dictionary.
“Street Arab” is one of the definitions.
I look up “Street Arab.” It says, “Vagabond, an outcast boy or girl living in the streets.”
Dirty little kid, little orphan.

I listen to my friend talk about the abortion she is going to have: Blob of tissue.
And to my neighbor who is pregnant and wanting the child: fetus, embryo, baby.

What is the difference?
Why does one black cat roam without food or love and one is safe inside?
Why can one child go to sleep in a country that secures her safety,
and the same country will starve and bomb another child?
Why does one sperm and egg get burned or cut up, and one gets nurtured?

What is the value that is placed on one over the other?
Desire.
If I want you, then my desire increases your value.

But the most revolutionary act is to separate value from desire.
The most radical idea is still that of equality.

—

25 Dec 2007 | 5:25 pm | Art

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