^{I.Escape Presents / https://linktr.ee/Iescape}

chile corazón

i do not greet my reflection or examine the silver hairs

superstitious, harboring shadows that move when i am still

glancing with strict suspicion out the corner, an uneasy eye

trapping blurs safely where they belong in periphery

i’m trimming hearts and gizzards for chile, craving organ meat

like past weeks’ sweetbreads and vinegar

something lurks in the freezer, the drain, the cutting board

my kitchen remembers every stolen moment we dared for

plucking eyebrows, if i must, with dreadful precision

and when cutting hair take pains to keep steady

hands shaking from the meds, these tiresome tremors

and when cutting hearts with a knife i am careful, hesitating

sieving, stirring salsa divas drown out brass bands

dip an unsuspecting finger, scalding

heat tears speech from your lips

listen, didn’t i warn you to be careful in my kitchen?

stripping, singing salsa as i slow dance with the spoon

here’s to the spinster aunt, brass in pocket locked and loaded

sunhat and cigarette, demons never far behind but for now

with my picnic lunch and no obligations, sunbathing

–Fin (they/them)

THE DIVIDE

As our fair skin counterparts would make moves to thrive
We gathered our families & searched for places to survive
Not knowing how long the drive until no more “Whites Only” signs
We were foolish, thinking the system just needed to be redesigned
Escorts that didn’t ensure safety as we shouted loudly for peace
Water hoses full pressure, slave catcher dogs off the leash
The America we’ve always known is a malicious, untamed beast
Strange fruit brought entertainment to otherwise mundane streets
New towns & new opportunities was more like the new age of scrutiny
Call me dirty, but paint my face on yours, so what’s your view of me
Threatened much? No wonder you stole my history & took my jewelry
If Hanford Eagles played the whites, we likely winning two of three
Or three of five, but according to you three fifths is our equivalence
Often looked over like Hidden Figures due to others lack of due diligence
The proof is in the pudding, the barbecue, the melodies
The foundations we created that still stand speaks to our pedigree
When you learn Greenwood & Rosewood were dismantled due to their prominence
So when I say I wish you would, please use your common sense
Because the pain plus the ignorance, multiplied by the cowardice
Makes me question, “How long did you think we’d allow you to keep us powerless?”

—Jay D’One Davis

As I grow up, I’m learning to accept and be mindful of my emotions. In a culture that equates productivity to success and happiness, slowing down to listen to your body and simply feel without shame is very difficult. Accepting and learning from the ugly parts of yourself and your emotions is even harder. This piece represents the vulnerability of doing so and the happiness that comes with being at peace with yourself. Our wide range of emotions is such a significant part of the human experience, so why only value happiness?

OFF MY CHEST

I got things on my chest that require a dial in

You can see me laugh but that doesn’t mean I’m anywhere near smiling

I’m trying to see past the validity 

I need to begin even being me

So, I’m supplying a place 

where humans can be human beings 

before I’m dying.

I’m barely scratching the surface of what that even means...

but I’m trying.

I feel like an avatar, 

I go to sleep and wake up in a paradox reality, 

on earth it feels like I’m dying

through my dreams, I see when humans sleep 

how we connect on levels 

that’s way too deep, to say in a few words through my poetry.

It’s unlimited energy.

There's unlimited energy!

We can tap into it, 

it sounds el crazy 

how we all think the same things 

but nobody ever says anything. 

Am I crazy? 

for wanting to speak on these energetic magnetic magic things?

The warmth it brings.

For wanting to learn more about how the world works around paradoxical strings?

Getting back to the old ways 

moving towards a future with nature and technology?

For wanting to teach?

I can’t get good knowledge from music anymore,

Pshh, forget the TV 

That's annoying but I don’t let that get anywhere near stopping me.

See, I’m still studying ancient things

Because maybe if I become a better student of nature

I can learn how to formulate peace.

And piece the pieces of the past 

together for a much more honest and rich history.

I want to take away all this foolish mystery

Like where did we all come from?

And why on earth?

When did we all say 

“LET US DESTROY EACH OTHER PAINFULLY”

and make mother nature hurt?

When did paper become more valuable than dirt? 

You know dirt? 

The one that grows your feet, 

grows the flower scenes, 

and gets you safely to work. 

Going back to the dirt won’t hurt, 

But I feel, it’ll turn its back on us one day,

And when it does, I don’t want to hear a word, because then it’ll be too late

And that’s where our story takes a turn.

To bring about peace, shouldn’t be until we are decorated in an urn

To grow more peace, we shouldn’t have to set the fields to burn

To sow more seeds of peace we need to work together and learn

How to earn back the trust from the animals we slaughter on the daily

Being wasteful, having more things than we could possibly ever need.

I saw in a meme that a father passing his son his belongings were nothing but junk in a garage.

I thought to myself, damn… that’s scary.

Because that could be you. 

Or me.

These things are on my chest

and it hurts to share my honesty

Because honestly, I wish this wasn’t my view of modern day society’s reality.

— Impact Poet, Ms. JuruDaWise

July 11, 2023

Fuck Your Lecture on Craft, My People Are Dying

Colonizers write about flowers.

I tell you about children throwing rocks at Israeli tanks

seconds before becoming daisies.

I want to be like those poets who care about the moon.

Palestinians don’t see the moon from jail cells and prisons.

It’s so beautiful, the moon.

They’re so beautiful, the flowers.

I pick flowers for my dead father when I’m sad.

He watches Al Jazeera all day.

I wish Jessica would stop texting me Happy Ramadan.

I know I’m American because when I walk into a room something dies.

Metaphors about death are for poets who think ghosts care about sound.

When I die, I promise to haunt you forever.

One day, I’ll write about the flowers like we own them.

— Noor Hindi

We Still Need You, Mr Lincoln

When a President sends troops
to fight crime in American cities,
uninvited and unwanted
we are no longer a government
“of” the people, Mr Lincoln.

When states arrange districts
so one party gets ninety percent
of the representatives
when they only earn sixty percent
of the vote
we are no longer a government
“by” the people, Mr Lincoln.

When the wealthy among us
pay lower tax rates than their staff,
and when we take nutrition from the poor
and health care from the sick
to enrich the affluent,
we are no longer a government
“for” the people, Mr Lincoln.

We still need you, Mr Lincoln,
we need your pressing words,
when you said
it is our turn.

It is for us, the living, to dedicate ourselves
to the unfinished work of this great nation;
that we may know
“…a new birth of freedom,
that this government
of the people,
by the people,
and for the people,
shall not perish
from the earth.”

— Larry morris (he/him)