it was 6.24 on a thursday night
only it wasn't quite night and I
unlocked my bike to take it upstairs and down
the back alley my eyes met some stares
and it's the day/night before easter
and it's the day/night that I missed
her
the girl who used to have no fear
down the alley three men sat
looking homeless looking dangerous looking unkempt
unclean
three men looking hungry
slinging over my handlebars a bag full of food
just come from dinner with mum and a
bag full of food was mine
leftovers
three hungry men down the alley
what would Jesus do? Well, it is nearly easter it's a
fair question the sun shone down hotly, harshly, it
won't be cold tonight at least but
that doesn't mean shit when
all you need is food.
What happened to the girl who would have walked down
the alley?
The girl who shared her food?
mamma always tole' me to share
but I don't even have any utensils and
it's embarassing and
meagre and
who wants my leftovers? who am I to assume?
and
the bigger what if which was what if they were
more interested
in me?
and one two three
I'm half way up the stairs with my bike and my food
what if
this is the month I fuck it all up?
in spite of the fact that there is always
more
money than I expect what if
this month because I keep forgetting to pay my phone
bill and it gets bigger (I swear I have the cash I
just keep forgetting)
what if
I
fuck it all up and can't
find
can't hint loud enough can't
find the food to feed myself?
My fridge has the essentials - mouldy salad, soy
sauce, ketchup, one lonely bottle of beer (for a
special occasion) and soy milk
peanut butter
said one voice in my head
to the other
can always be eaten with a spoon
and later
when my inner hypocrite came out
in a record shop
I hate fuckin record shops
I couldn't find any Patti Smith
so I guess I'll just have to live
with Ani D playing Carnegie
hall
that's it that's all
Two days ago
two nights to chicks ago
I guided coffee tasting and we
heard about how we could help
chicks in Africa stay home and get an
education
instead of being married
when they're 9 years old
the story was told
by an Ethiopian woman
speaking softly, not wanting to push
and I said quietly fuck the silence
what's that all about
this is a worthwhile thing let's
get the story out
the karma spread like a siren's song around the room
and
then we drummed under the light of the
full moon
but tonight outside in the balmy spring air
the feeling that I had it
wasn't
always
there
that air that hung over us the other night
followed me home from the record shop
sort of
thursday before a long weekend and everyone is out
the party's just beginning
the yobbos are starting to shout
I picked the worst street to walk home on because
I thought in daylight it would be just fine
such a nice night I thought
there'd be lots of folks about
and there were
just not the safe kind
my path took me by a dodgy old hotel pub
with a clientelle I try to snub
drunks on the streets and streetcorners
dirty old men leering from every streetcorner and
I thought
if there are people about
no one will try anything
and I thought well I'll scowl and look mean and
see if
I can scare them all away but
overall under my baggy loose clothing is a
clean girl
a nice girl
a brave girl with a brave(stupid)heart
and what she lacks in brains she
makes up for with
bravado
and I was fine I was two blocks away from the neon
safe haven(hell)of a seven-eleven and
a stumblybum from down the street tripped
over his own feet into
the middle of the road
staggering about
and the closer I came I saw he looked clean just
fucked up a bit and I thought I'd be fine if he
didn't see me but
even when I try not to be I'm
bright and shiny
and he saw me and called out
and didn't take being ignored for an answer, turned
around,
called out and
started to run after me and I looked around and could
see no one
and thought well
I'm fucked
I guess.
If he doesn't like being ignored he won't like no or
fuck off or
leave me alone or
me screaming and acting rugby girl tough
to cover my fear
fuck
I mean really I walk this same fuckin road
after dark all the time why
now in broad daylight when there should be folks about
did the one bloke off his tree
have to start running after me?
What would Jesus do?
He was a step behind me
and calling to me then
beside me briefly in front of me but beside me
falling into step two compadres to any outsider
not too close
surprisingly not threatening but
wanting change and I just took my
hypocritical spare change to the record shop in the
mall
I had no cash on me
and I need to eat too
need to look after me
feeling guilty as sin
I gave him a quizzical face
he asked again.
quietly, I stumbled my words.
picking through the myriad of foreign words
trying to find three that were from the same
language
je ne comprende
no english
je ne comprende
he kept asking but was confused
je ne comprende
no english
no english
no english
cross the street once then twice forward moving to a
nicer street
finally alone
shaken
bilingualism as self defense? or a self perpetuated
hypocritical
offence?
around the corner through the grocery store parking
lot
in front of the ice cream shop
stopped at the seven-eleven before that
got some ben and jerry
only two men in my bed these
days
bumped into chelsea and matt
she really is a fruit fly
never saw it so clear before
then again
apparently
flammer characteristics notwithstanding
I apparently
have no gaydar
matt talking about my coffee seminar
that night we drummed until the stars
hung in the sky
said he'd call about my final
certification
the regulation
that lets me be the store coffee smartarse(village
idiot?)
perpetuating propaganda of goodwill toward coffee
farmers
hypocrite
music with a soul strong enough to make me cry
food in my fridge
freakin' ben and jerry's
vermonty python (sneaking up on me)
who the fuck am I
small and insignificant in the scheme of things
who the fuck am I
to sit here oh so comfortable sure
sure I work my ass off in
every area possible sure I
do what I can but
I can do more and I
know it
where is that fine line between
helping and hindering my health/wellbeing
where I can enjoy
something that means something to me
without feeling guilty
a lingering remembrance of
everything that's
where I've been
the landscape of my home fraught with
opposite emotions
the suburbs make me sick with their wealth yet
yet
the inner city.....
carves out my heart
hollows out my soul
leaves me feeling dark
leaves me feeling
imploded
silenced
2 comments:
from Corey, via email:
woah
5 blocks from where you live the earth falls away into beauty
a vista, mistah, with a meandering wanderer plying its inner secrets...
and it's ok girl, its alright
they don't know, and it sure as hell aint your fault.
ten thousand miles from you there's people starving, it's true
you didnt steal their bread to feed yourself
and the world view that teaches this is the same fear
mongering that war-lords peddle, but in the name of good (fools)
and it's ok girl, it's alright
you hand strikes a drum and the universe hears it
there's more power there than anywhere
a bright shining center of infinity
and poverty will exist as long as poor people do
and the choices you make will be fair and good
as long as you are...
it's ok because you deserve every good
everyone does, and the universe doles out abundance
struggling to offer it into every hand, but many deny it from fear
poor people are because they have decided to be
clearly understand this though it hurts
the sum total of your life is the sum of your thinking
(and true for every person low or high)
change the thinking, inexorably change the result
beg for change($) and get it, do it again cause it worked...
work for a good company that says thank you, and do it tomorrow cause it worked
for you.
own a business, whore some music, drive a truck... its all the same.
and 5 blocks from where you live the city crumbles away
you can see for miles and miles and the distance makes
a nice space for you that's a bit bigger
than an alley full of fear, or an imposed language barrier
it aint all rosy, girl,
but it will be ok, it's alright
your power, POWER infinite
but the sorrow in your verse is chilling, the guilt is
is just so wrong sounding
resonating so against itself, yourself, non-self
what right have you to judge yourself so harshly?
you who are infinite and good?
hypocrisy is the suffering implied between opposing views
living in the same heart
one says you deserve some new music in your life
the other says some Captain Jesus would have given his money away....
think on that.
jesus inspired a culture of beggars with that move of charity.
do you think mother theresa gave money away?
she did not.
did she suffer beggars? she did not.
she clearly understood that to fight against poverty was useless....
fight FOR productivity and abundance, for health and support
and tell the low to get off there knees!
but she was a nun, woman!
she was married to captain jesus!
I'd rather listen to ani... to selfishly live my life, doing great good along the way... but
smiling and drumming all the while for me.
call me selfish if you will
but the universe calls for us to express great experience and that is all
and she is repulsed by guilt, for it serves nothing and no-one
yours hand strike the drum and the universe re-joices
such power in it
such singular(ity) beauty
i can hear it clearly
bounce that sound off the valley walls, for they live not 5 blocks from you
the city is a troubled place its true, but more good
than bad,
lives in it
COME VISIT!!
Hi Jen,
It's totally ok to be afraid. We have fear because there are scary things out there. It keeps us healthy.
It is hard, seeing people that might be hungry when you're not, but there are ways to help that also keep you safe. If it helps at all, there are places to go in this city if you are hungry, and you will get fed.
I hate to step on Corey's parade but umm. Mother Teresa did give money, medicine and food to the poor, and Jesus didn't inspire beggars, he was dealing with a problem that already and has always existed.
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