February 28, 2016

Cortney Lamar Charleston

CHILLARY CLINTON SAID “WE HAVE TO BRING THEM TO HEAL”

I mean, I think that’s what she was saying, right?
So how about it then? My hands are soft and ready

for work. Bring me all your sick-and-tireds, all your
bodies bruised all over, it would seem, from birth itself.

Bring me buckets of fried chicken, both original and
extra crispy. Bring me pork chops and racks on racks

of ribs. I need six-packs ad infinitum. Juice boxes
and boxes full of bagged ice. Get me circular tables,

folding chairs, old white robes to use as table cloths,
and one full deck of cards for every set of seats: I’m

throwing a grand old party! Yes, Beyoncé is invited.
Kanye West is invited. I’m sorry if it disappoints you,

but you must understand that my mans needs to heal
with his fellow men, with women who have been hurt

by the things men have done to them, or said, or didn’t say
or didn’t mean to from the dustiest corners of their hearts.

Harm happens, but for what apologies and forgivenesses
never come or word alone can’t communicate completely

or correctly, we invented music; bring me plastic crates
of vinyls. Turntables. Bring me speakers, power strips,

extension cords. Tell everybody coming to load their
trunks with cheap fireworks. Tell them to bring dishes

we can dole out. Solo cups. Plates and utensils. Pillows,
since we’re going until moonrise at minimum, moving

the crowd, shaking our groove thangs yeah yeah. This
is a party, damn it! And I know somebody will probably

make a jackass out of themselves, but that’s all part of
the experience. Somebody will drink too much, but we

won’t let them drive. Somebody’s cousin will say some
reckless shit and have to get put in line: that’s how it goes.

It might get loud around here, but that’s just because we’re
all alive. Blood-wired. We dance battled death and won.

Then we talked about it. Then we cried about it. We tried.
We tried. We tried: everybody’s hands on everybody else.

Poets Respond
February 28, 2016

[download audio]

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Cortney Lamar Charleston: “With the Presidential election cycle dominating news coverage for the last few months (and for the foreseeable future), I’ve tried to have as much fun as possible with all the political bickering to stop from being legitimately fearful of the potential outcomes. South Carolina’s Democratic primaries are taking place on February 27th, and accordingly, I’ve been inundated with coverage about Clinton and Sanders courting of the sizable ‘black vote’—which has been quite annoying. Then something entertaining (and important) happened: a young, queer black woman was caught on video protesting at a private Clinton event, basically forcing Hillary to confront some rather troubling words regarding the criminality of (black) youth that helped underscore a community-harming crime bill. Clinton has been quoted as saying of ‘superpredators’ that ‘we must bring them to heel.’ I took the liberty of reimagining her words in an alternative, more positive light, and this poem is the result.” (website)

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April 12, 2015

Cortney Lamar Charleston

FEELING FUCKED UP

after Etheridge Knight

for Walter Scott

Lord, they done did the damn deed again          took him out
like          POOF like ace          BOOM           COON like          WAP like
motherfucker          he might’ve been kin you know? like          I’m saying
neither of us can          could          run for shit            guess a cop’s shot ain’t
gotta be worth spit if he gets eight of them damn          just ate shrimp
now          it’s everywhere          it’s dark outside my window America
is everywhere look          this brother ain’t coming back none of them
coming back turn yours on a coward          they’ll prove who they really
are          scared of          is you telling me I went four long-ass days
without knowing he died          that I got my tail light fixed the same
damn day he faded out in broad daylight after getting stopped
for a broken tail light?          did I drop $275 just to keep living my
got-damned life?!          I got work in the a.m.          but what for? who
I’m feeding? Walter Scott have kids or not? they caught them
bastards on tape          planting the taser          next to a body
handcuffed to its own color          to lifelessness itself          motherfucker
I can’t even          I need a woman          to hold me tonight a good
woman like she would bury me with her own hands good if
I bit the bullet kicked the bucket of blood over I          need Jesus
some Kanye College Dropout           tonight I          really need
some liquor          for them to stay outta my face with all
their oh my God! every day they kill my God just a little bit
more believe that my brother          it took a camera for all
y’all to believe this was possible but          why?          still ain’t enough
why?         my background check          clean like          tabula rasa like you
can be white on black          and free black on anything and
dead in jail for life           sick dopeness          I got it don’t worry          fuck it
I got it          cable news is gonna have field days with this one
and the next          man fuck that          if I’m being completely honest

fuck every Facebook “like” on that video fuck every share
and stock that goes up tomorrow fuck the NRA fuck elephants
and donkeys and trees fuck all the primaries and the general
fuck another White House press conference fuck every
bald-headed bird in the sky fuck “democracy” fuck oligarchy
fuck racism fuck sexism fuck heterosexism fuck classism fuck
the police state fuck law and order if that’s what it takes
fuck the drug of war fuck the war on drugs fuck good
people going quiet fuck pure evil fuck the part of me that wants to
forget fuck forgetting fuck not forgetting fuck death fuck my life
fuck every single thing in sight till we all make it all          right.

Poets Respond
April 12, 2015

[download audio]

__________

Cortney Lamar Charleston: “Forgive my language in this poem, as I typically try to steer away of cussing too much, but hopefully you can understand where I’m coming from with this one. After all, is that not what poetry is: a hopeful act no matter how blue? That being said, it deeply saddens me to witness yet another black person being killed due to use of excessive and/or negligent force on the part of law enforcement, particularly because the images of this have been projected across so many media outlets—it really is traumatic to witness as a black person, and is just one in a long list of entries of black and brown bodies killed without real (or good) reasons why. But I suppose to some people, the Scott video is as enlightening as it is shocking. It shows that not all dark-skinned ‘suspects and assailants’ were always ‘reaching for the cop’s gun’ or ‘reaching for his taser’ or ‘reaching for a weapon,’ which is the typical script that is continuously repeated in these incidents (it was here as well, until the video proved otherwise). Perhaps, as an exercise, it would benefit us all to ask ourselves if the victims feared for their lives at the hands of officers, as we hear that often in the other direction already (as in this case, before the video surfaced). We need to ask why that seems so plausible, if we truly believe in this nation, deep down, that black and brown people are all a criminal element until proven ‘decent.’ We need to ask ourselves how un-American our conceptions of certain groups of people are. We need not to run from this. We need to face it. If we agree that ‘all lives matter,’ then we consequently need to believe ‘black lives matter.’ The first statement necessitates the second, and if you don’t believe the latter to be true, or you attempt to downplay it, then you do disservice to the former, unintentionally or not.” (website)

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March 11, 2015

Cortney Lamar Charleston

A BRIEF HISTORY OF POETRY

after Dan Albergotti

All day the boy sits behind the house
with his dog; all day the dog sits with him.
Well before then, the boy is dog himself:
obedient, sharp-toothed thing. Sun-kissed
boy. Too much kissed by sun, too much
kissed early on. Forgets his sharp teeth.
Forgets his animal, his beast, his chain
of events that keeps him in the yard. Swoons
to the song of chain in swish. Fetches after
the orange ball like a good dog. Dog of sun.
Dog of Jesus. Dog that kneels when told,
genuflects on cue, that loves the sound of
tambourines, of metals fracturing silence.
He gets fed good meats. Plays with bones,
or studies archaeology, as some may call it.
Unearths. Devolves as he evolves. Hypothesizes
he is mutt on his father’s side, probably of
mixing by force. He is boy now, the smallness
of men. Wants his own dog, no longer to be
dog, wants to be man. Finally gets dog that
he sits with behind the house, the house he
gets moved from, made to mix by force of
proximity. Finds himself having to kiss up
because he is too sun-kissed to be down
with the other boys. Doesn’t use the same
words, or uses the same words differently.
Can’t figure out if he is still barking or they are.
All his old friends were his dogs, but he is boy
now, so he thinks, not completely hip to his
mouth re-learning the shape of certain words,
why suddenly they interest him like the hind-
quarters of a bitch, an instinct he should be
beyond, may have accidentally taught himself,
become dog again when his first dog died: when
it had a stroke behind the house and he sat there
with it until his father could cart it off to sleep.

from Rattle #46, Winter 2014

__________

Cortney Lamar Charleston: “This affair with poetry began after attending a spoken word showcase on my college campus. One performer by the name of Joshua Bennett drew me in, particularly. He was everything I loved about rhythm, about the black body, about the courage I had in me that I rarely showed. Before I knew it, I was putting every pound of me into verse of some type; all that paper became heavy. It became my go-to for explaining weight-gain to loved ones. Them old folks always said I was a heavy boy.” (web)

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October 26, 2014

Cortney Lamar Charleston

MILEY CYRUS PRESIDES OVER THE FUNERAL FOR THE TWERK

I’m glad you know that twerking is so yesterday … the new dance is called ‘The Nae Nae’ … I don’t really know the origin. Just my dancers, the LA Bakers, they taught it to me… so then I started doing it, which is kinda what happened with the twerking, too.
—Miley Cyrus

As we gather here today, we do so with heavy bass,
tatted up, J’s on our feet, carrying wrecking balls
to tear this church down once we leave—
because sadness in the passing of life
is for boring old white people: wack. This is
a party. This is what The Twerk would’ve wanted,
I know. I knew her so well. I remember hearing
an old saying, I think from 2-pack, maybe
Snoop D-O-Double-G, that you live by the gun,
you die by the gun. I’m not sure how it fits
the occasion quite yet, but let’s just say
The Twerk wasn’t a gangster or a gangster’s
trick—she didn’t deserve to go so soon,
but life is hard in the ghetto, I hear
from all my friends in the streets and
struggle. Folks were mad when we started
cliquing like some triggers, were so appalled
by the moving and the shaking, the rump
to bump, but you can’t hate on that. If
you got ass, then use it. The Twerk taught me
well. How do you think Robin Thicke became
THAT famous a dick? It was these hips, this
tongue. That was us—me, and her, too. She
was backstage with the Bakers, counting
all the paper pouring in, posting the good word
on Twitter. And all you tweeted back at her
was venom. That girl had a family, she had kids
to feed—Nae Nae, lil’ Shmoney—kids who
survive her. And I promise to treat them like
they’re my kids, since I loved their mother
so much. I will make sure they become the stars
they deserve to be, so that when they die, they
too can be buried in ivory caskets scrubbed clean
by a toothbrush. Mike Will, make it so. Mike Will,
if you’re here, make it so! We can’t stop now.

Poets Respond
October 26, 2014

[download audio]

__________

Cortney Lamar Charleston: “One of the greatest benefits (to the recipient) of a privilege—race, gender, class, sexual orientation—is erasure. I had a little fun with the latest Miley Cyrus headline that “twerking” was dead. If you research, you’ll know that Miley never claimed to introduce twerking to anybody … but nonetheless, she became the world’s most famous twerker, despite it being around for so long among a certain sub-culture of folks. I think this episode speaks not only to how certain things are co-opted and appropriated from one group or person by one with more status/power/privilege, but also how the more powerful group or person doesn’t always see the harm or disrespect that the lower card will feel. We need perspective around that, but it is not always easy to find.” (website)

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