Monday, May 26, 2008

And We Keep Dreaming>>Dreaming IN Love

The multiple layers of the simple act of dreaming and the impact of dreaming in our lives becomes essential in our documentary. The results of this documentary will not only be the simple meaning of dreaming, but of dreaming and acting upon our dreams, <>. In the process of our documentary nothing was really planned or certain, nothing assured. We barely had a plan for the day. We only knew that our main reason for making such documentary was our awareness of the importance of cultivating dreams in the kids, the fact that they can well define their dreams so that their acts become subject of these.
There were certain aspects in our minds that we wanted to reveal in the documentary. The reality of our lives was our main focus. Real, true feelings, true events, meaningful ideas that came up along the process of creating this documentary were our scenario. We wanted to show that the compilation of genuine actions could really work in creating this film. We started by doing what we always do and what we enjoy the most: the interaction and the constant engaging in class, the talking, the sharing, the writing, the teaching and the learning. Our class interaction is always present; this is the constant on which we base our work at Phillis Wheatley.
One of our main goals in coming to Phillis Wheatley was also the fact that we could really create relationships with the kids so that the work became something meaningful and not something that seemed obligatory. Friendship was something that we knew would take a long time to make, but being patient was our wisest decision. By the end of our first semester at the school, we were greatly attached to the kids; we could really call each other “friends” by this time. And this was a very important aspect that we had to touch on in the documentary. Once friendships evolved, dreams evolved as well. We wanted to serve as inspiration to the kids, as role models, and as someone who they could trust and rely on. Once these relationships developed, we tried to accentuate dreams; their dreams. We knew that once their dreams were clear and acknowledged that their actions could really take a path towards meeting those. We tried to avoid racial segregation by the simple fact of our attendance to this school. Once we evaluated the school, we noticed that Phillis Wheatley was a highly segregated school, and so by creating relationships and by our mere attendance here, we were already breaking all of this lines that kept us apart. This was another aspect that was prominent in the documentary.
Our community involvement became relevant unplanned, as everything else. Harvesting collard greens and then going to Mrs. Kromer’s house (the school’s security guard) was not only a fun and unique experience, but it also showed us the importance of community involvement, the real meaning of engaging in a neighborhood, and for us; college students; the experience was exceptional, since most of us were not used to interacting with neighbors, especially in a black community. Phillis Wheatley students, college students, neighbors, family members, all of us together in a small apartment in the center of Overtown; this was the real coming together of races, of cultures, it was the breaking of any possible division that higher forces dictate. We broke boundaries, and it all emerged out of a creative thought of harvesting and cooking collard greens.

Sucked by the Black Hole


My elongated feeling of solitude
Escapes the black hole
Wins another victory
Because this is where I am,
And that is where you are,
And the air between us doesn’t know that
I am down here,
Or does it?
Acting like minute ants
We run, we jump and think
That it’s all about work,
All about us,
All about getting up
And acting robotic,
When the truth is that
We’ll soon be nothing
No----thing
Or a thing, not sure which one.
Supernova and ketchup
Relate, see?
There’s no beginning and
No end.
There’s this now
That could be time and space.
There is this silent
Crash between spirit
And matter.
So black hole get close
To me so that I can see
You, so we can travel
Forward and eat time
Or space.
Doesn’t really <>.
Incarnated into bones,
And soul,
And water,
I live
And walk not really knowing
My start,
Or path,
Or end.

DYING


I am still dying and this just feels so good.
Should I laugh?
Should I cry?
Should I want to die?
My eyes only blurry yellow see.
Only the yellow blurry of paranoia
Paranoia?
Reality?
Dying?
Surely unsecured
Saved by a word
By many words
By a sentence
By a song
A poem?
No
No poem
A story that is untrue
Untold
Undeveloped
My heart beating will not stop
My cold hands will turn hot
And yellow
Again
And disappear in the dark
And reappear in your eyes
Because you only see me
When I am not here
and when I am here
you destroy me
and now I keep dying
and laughing
or crying.
I’ve gone fat
See?
Full of worries and drugs
And poems
And songs
And some friends
That perhaps understand
But I am sure they don’t.
And I scream
But the voice is not strong
But not weak
It’s where you want it to be.
It left me
No voice
I cry
And die
And move my hands
Upward
And forward
And upward
And forward
And upward
And forward
Am I high?
Yeah, on life.
On vegetables and dreams
On love and more love
And more love
And more love
Because even if I wanted
This is what I can’t control
Love
Love
Love
Love
I keep dying
and going nowhere
because nowhere is where I go
and you keep not understanding
that I am yours
completely yours
veins
blood
beating
fast
I keep dying
Dying
And closing
And this is all I can give
And that makes me
Me
And you
And green
I keep dying
No
Don’t rescue me.

Monday, May 5, 2008

The Price of Memory

People don't breathe in all at once. It comes steady
through the day, like a focused bandit. Every moment
I see people with invisible bottles, vessels to carry
the concentrated air. They keep it by their side, waiting
for the proper moment to sip a bit, feel it in their blood,
live a moment,
while no one is watching-
I breathe you in. Immersed in your scent, I feel
the sensibility of your form skid across my pallete
and journey inside. Tough interior melts in your exhale
as my lungs curve to mirror your rhythm. You travel
into memory, touching the engram of our caress,
while I try to forget-
the bottles of breath that glide with the fog
of remembering, little souls left falling like shards
of broken clay, the soft imprint of lovers
saved like rations in case I'm left
here, caught between a sigh,
clawing to your breath like an infant.
-Shane Johnson

Mi Ego Te Ama


Me imagino que no te percatarás de lo que te escribí.
Y puede que este sea mi ego hablando, pero él comprende.
¿Ves como me acabas de abandonar?
¿Ves que en realidad estas en lo incorrecto?
La realidad es que si en verdad fueras lo que dices ser, me ayudarías.
Aunque no estoy segura de quien necesita mas ayuda en estos momentos.
¿tu?
¿yo?
Ni idea
No importa.
En realidad, y no se si es la realidad (pero es la mía), no entiendo.
Y de esto se trata mi camino.
¿De no entender, te cruzaste?
¿Que pasó con tu melodía?
¿Que paso con el querer de mi alma, si tú. ALMA?
Hay un ALMA. Y un ego también, pero ese sólo tu ves.
Eso es lo que buscas, y si buscas lo encuentras. Ya lo has encontrado.
Que pena.
¿Es que me morí? Si, si. Eso. Me morí.
Pero en realidad pensé que me querías. Lo recibí. Abrí mis manos y mi cuerpo.
Me abrí a ti. No, no espinas.
¿Viste?
¿Sentiste?
Puede que si.
Puede que no permitiste.
Pero si te quise, oye, demasiado.
Y te quiero.
Y quiero mostrarte todo lo que escribo.
Y quiero llamarte cuando no entiendo.
Y quiero ser tuya cuando te anhelo.
Y quiero que me veas, como soy. ¿Cómo soy?
Ya lo deberías saber, pero no.