4eyedatlas

2007. that was the year when my mind had to figure out which fork in the road to take...
i traveled down a lot of highways, alleys, and one-ways the wrong way.
but those sojourns made me into who i am and what i wrote then and now....

may i strive to carry the burden of my name honorably--to the very end.

I.

people say you should never hit a man with glasses
but i get hit every day…
by absolute   bacardi   mary  jane and tom and dick and harry..
these four eyes have has had been seeing that rule broken
time and time again…

what is there to gain in a world of blindness?

i am the four eyed atlas…

i possess twice the foresight to see the bullshit in front of me and
the secret hidden strength to conceal their burdens within the abyss of my black well of my soul
 of which it is never well… just well concealed and well adept to making the new masks that dunbar would be proud of…

i travel walk run in t-shirt and blue jeans to get close to the underbelly of my own who we disown as our next generation of thugs and misfits and drug dealers… and yet there is a shred of me in them and them in me—

they don’t see the second kingdom coming of double consciousness... the jay-z w.e.b….

the gift and curse of running beyond our melanin and leaving our niggas behind the other side of the country tracks, faced with the allure of prospering while letting them die rolling them dice in the midst of a harlem night of southern comfort while the society shoots them down like inglorious hogs living in run-down spots….

lettin’ them rot in coffins with that soft leather and hard oak wood…

they   be   going    so     hard,

keeping they eyes on the prize…

for once again, our revolution will be televised on bet and american idol once again…

but it call me right back…
but it call me right back…
but it call me right back…
but it call me right back…

oh yes…

because

i am that nigga

  who will takes his brother to the dice game and lose his money sleeping on concrete couch thinking about

  how fucked his life is over a bottle of taaka…

i am that nigga

   who will smoke that blunt with you to talk about why black is the most notable and most avoided color      

   in america..

   who will drink with you to help you understand why the colors of the flag are red, white, blue and black…
     like louis armstrong while these republican armstrongs and thomases and gonzaleses thrive as these new 
     political overseers in this American plantation….

4 this america pretends it’s the aristocrat..while others are hiding that grey goose to let loose like a blitzkrieg of Goldschlager, making us want to holla with these oil prices and thin military forces, these reason absolut should force us to establish a new mark with our maker…

II.

i am the backlash of the university and its hope

possessing the words of white mythology and black voodoo magic…

i am that hybridnigga
  who will help bear your burdens with you b/c i’m obligated to do so by our minority blood and exploitated  
  skin and eyes and ears and lips and feet and phallus…of which we suffer from globalized calluses…making

  our plantations into college parks…and our slave quarters into candy painted dulces and quarters….

i am that nigga
   who will bear your burdens b/c i’ve been punched in my eyes constantly…
       by others..           by my own…             by my  own self….

i see martin’s dream deferred everyday burning like a raisin in the sun
when our talented tenth become part of the white 1 percent…

when obama is dangled like a puppet in the midst of hillary clinton..

when i see my niggas blind in the caves in which they create from that young jocjeezy itch

bitches go getting that dopeboy magic david copperfield makes appear and disappear

like the stars of mlk and malcolm and medger in a starless oxford sky with a bottle of southern comfort

for my dislocated heart in the midst of this misnomer called black progress…

i take off my glasses and wipe my eyes.

i put them back on.

i have an odessey to see.

i have weight to bear.

i have eyes to open.

Rock the Spoken Word

My friend and fellow colleague Casarae Gibson is starting a segment on her blog called "Rock the Spoken Word." Each month, she highlights a relatively unknown spoken word artist and promotes their work to a wider audience. This month, I am honored to be her first poet for the month of June. I do look forward to reading about the future poets as the year goes on.

It is good to find fellow poets. Hopefully, we can use this vehicle to create networks and collaborations. Keep doing what your doing, Cas :)  Below is in the interview. Also, I have provided a link to her blog.


Rock the Spoken Word
June Feature: Terrance Youngblood

June's Feature of the Month is Terrance Youngblood, a poet and Ph.D. student in English at Purdue University. I had the pleasure of working with this inspiring poet in a group called Haraka Writers, a poetry ensemble at Purdue University's Black Cultural Center. Youngblood is a very passionate and driven poet who speaks the truth, but never demands attention. Through his humble demeanor and forceful words, Youngblood executes vividly a sound story and delivery. Check out this June feature and support Youngblood's work.


City and State you represent?

I hail from the great state of Mississippi where I claim the cities of Forest and Clinton.


How long have you been doing spoken word?

I have been writing poetry since I was in tenth grade. I didn't have many friends, so poetry was a means of expressing my feelings and coping with life. I started spoken word/performance poetry when I was a sophomore in college.


Why did you choose the spoken word art form?

To me, spoken word is an empowering privilege.It is a way to express artistic truth and gospel for the masses to hear, to learn, to grow. The beauty about spoken word is that it is a two-way street: the poet has to grow as well in order for the spoken words to have more merit.


What is the best/most executed spoken word piece(s) you have performed?

The piece that I have most performed is entitled "4eyed atlas." I based this poem
on my self-formations as an black intellectual and black poet.

Name some of the artists that have influenced your spoken word style and why?

Though I have quite a few influences, perhaps, the most important would be C. Leigh McInnis, an English professor from Jackson State University. We meet at a summer program during my sophomore year in college; I was his teacher's assistant. During that summer, I was enlightened by his views of poetry and philosophy. Drs. Jerry W. Ward and Candice Jackson are others who encouraged me to go beyond the trendy and create a focused, complex picture.

In terms of my delivery, I have to go back to my sophomore year as a Mellon Fellow; my roommate, Ernest Gibson III (aka Scripture, in poetry sets) and I skipped the first dinner at Emory and went to a poetry set in Atlanta. Watching him spit made me realize that as a poet, I must always be both bold and vulnerable.


Describe the topic(s) that you write/perform about and the inspiration behind these topic(s).

I write on a range of topics: from politics and love--to death and identity. I don't have a particular inspiration behind certain topics. I write what life lets me see, no matter how transparent or obscure. I believe that the splendor of life is not in the big events--but in the little things that are overlooked, neglected, and forgotten. Search for those things and make them beautiful. That's where you find your best poems.


Is there a website, blog, email where we can find you?
I do have a blog. Feel free to follow my thoughts and poetry at http://www.4eyedatlas.blogspot.com/



All photos used in this feature are courtesy of Terrance Youngblood

If you are interested in being featured for Rock the Spoken Word, email rockthespokenword@gmail.com