Soulful Visions of the Speaking Self – download it right now!

My show last night flowed really well, and the sound quality was much better than I thought. Have a listen while you head to work in the morning! http://www.blogtalkradio.com/at-the-edge-thinkculture/2018/12/13/soulful-visions-of-the-speaking-self-ronald-mason

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Soulful Visions of the Speaking Self: Ronald Mason on At the Edge – Thinking Culture

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Ronald Mason the spoken word artist who came to Washington DC as an educator from New Orleans returns for part two to talk about poetry, spoken word, and making culture. Poet Carl Moore who hails from Philadelphia will briefly join us to share his work as well. Tonight we will each share our works, methods, and stories about what it means to be creative writers in a highly politicized time period while holding true to our visions as artists. Tonight we will discuss soulful visions and being true to the speaking self! http://www.blogtalkradio.com/at-the-edge-thinkculture/2018/12/13/soulful-visions-of-the-speaking-self-ronald-mason

Mattering

doesn’t seem a big deal
your language and ideas
feeding someone who seeks
to starve you
to isolate you
to erase you
until you recognize
that the engineer of your destruction
looks and sounds like you
that is black respectability politics
at its worst
when your work does not count
until it no longer belongs to you
until it no longer represents you.

story of between

hearts gathering waves
of past markers like photos
we walking parallel
towards the here and now
of between
as we walked
among soldiers of freedom
lifting our voices
from silent tears
to forever paths
heartbeats
from meeting each other
and this is how
you knew me
i knew you
long before meeting
where the between
of here and now
recognizes
repetition in our histories
of motion
of emotion
where the between
syncs and links
manifesting that moment
where we meet
in the here and now.

I use your insults against me as poetry

So yes, folk, I do get fan letters. I also get trolls. And then there’s spies who look at my social media for the purpose of running my name up and down hallways because they have nothing better to do, which is ironic, considering the fact that most of them get bigger paychecks than me. In fact one of them sent a nasty note to me via FB msgr whining about me being “sexually frustrated, anal retentive, and racist.” Someone, probably a man who really resents my voice on matters like consent and privilege, wrote this whiny set of accusations. I’m petty enough to use it in the next three poems in a short series called the accusations. Use it, said Blade to Whistler. Use it.

 

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My Father the Teacher

My Dad taught me how to ride a bike
he took us to the park to fly kites
he took us on walks
he worked the night shift to feed us
he was there in my life

My Dad was also an angry man
as Black men living in America must be
because anger at injustice should be expected
but he also did what angry Black men do
he went to church even though he despised it
but even as he hated church
he still took us to church
he was there in my life

My Dad at 79 continues to teach me
even as i now teach him feminism and texting
even as we teach each other forgiveness
even as he continues to teach me
about the history of Black men in America
just as he taught me Black History as a child
he is here in my life.

black love

paint me black
exquisite ebony
make it too sheer
to wear on anything
but velvety skin

paint it raven
black as my ardor
for you
for me
blacker than black
black to black black
blackness being black
black being too good to
speak of without tears
of rapture
of delight
of deliverance

I
with anguish
with ecstasy
want you to
pencil in the lines
on onion paper smearing
between fine lines the stripes
of Noah’s hoop blending
all hues smoothly into
rich sable

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