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by Tonia Y. Clare-Jones
See how we change everything into
something you can’t understand?
Under whips and shackles we ate those bitter words
stinging us, leaving us immobile
paralyzing us with perfect fear,
and that word that you threw to us
was like the feet and butt of swine
and yet we seasoned our greens,
made them bearable, tolerable, and ultimately,
And so your cruel word, which you can only whisper
has been seasoned, yeah “nigga.”
And we embrace it, yeah “crazy ass nigga.”
And we empower it, yeah “that’s my nigga.”
And it is on the swing of my hips,
as I point one finger at my man and say,
“Nigga don’t play with me”
it is on those graphite, cement courts
as brothers ’ bodies like great celestial beings
rtlove in'v^ays that defy hatiire and they say',
And we take from you this word, “nigger,”
and give it a new social context,
that can only be understood by us.
We look at you and laugh, realizing,
that your “nigger” has no hold on us
no power over us, it does not move us.
You look at us with envy as our “nigga”
sends us into melodious laughter and
you know that you have lost your word somewhere
by the nile, by the ivory coast, in the congo
and we picked it up in New York, Detroit, Carolina,
and we said, “look at how our lips form
when we say “nigga.” Watch our eyes gleam and
our hands flail with a nigga’s energy.
“It is now our word”
Once, there were two souls traveling in time toward the
same destination, but on different paths.
There was an awareness between these souls—each of
the other, yet the souls never met, too eager to be on the
After a time, just as the wind moves the leaves and the
ocean brings the tide, nature reunited the souls at a
second crossroad. Suddenly, time stood still. As these
souls met with new awareness, the ground opened up
and drew them in toward the depths of unleashed
Led by human instinct, their beings explored ancient
unions and timeless traditions. Neither soul understood
the forces driving their beings, but each understood that
the other was necessary in the present for the comple
tion of their unknown destinies...
Broncos Please Stand
by Michael Rich
[Conceived, bared, and born]
by Nina Spicer
Conceived, bared, and bom
to a two-sided world
Tears of joy, thoughts of sorrow
Unleashed into an unsuspecting place
Naive and full of wisdom
learned through the womb
The slant of my eyes
The roundness of nose
The fullness of my mouth
Ail like daddy, powerful
to the eyes.
Full of ideas, bursting with dreams
Thoughts on my mind followed by
wisdom on my tongue
All like mother, stronger of the two
I am my mother from her womb
Rising like a smile to play
On a sunny, fuimy, funny day - you say hello. And
Before I can laugh, you still me now and again - your kiss.
Inside you: this fantasy I wish and seek
Next to you. Reach now and grasp the right hand of Love.
The events on campus seem such a bore;
So often upon leaving the games we don’t notice the score.
We’re supposed to be cheering, but I can’t tell.
You could hear a pin drop; it’s as quiet as Hell.
It’s as if a football game is just another place to go.
We don’t go for the game; we’re just there for a show.
And at the basketball games we’re in the same kind of funk;
We cheer loudest for the opponent when they get the dunk.
About the volley ball games, I guess we don’t care.
But that’s pretty evident when no one is there.
At parties we represent, but it’s like we’re in a trance.
I say this because so many people don’t dance.
Now, Homecoming, boy, that’s a mystery to me,
How we’d rather be at Central or even A&T.
It’s not all our fault, this I cannot deny;
We need more support from FSU alumni.
How can I say this? What have I done? ^
While at Hampton University I had lots of fun.
Here I can’t see it, I can’t tell it, I don’t hear it;
Broncos the question is: Where is your spirit?
The campus should be spirited—it’s supposed to be live.
We can make a deference (SGA meetings are Wednesdays at five).
So, to every woman and to every man:
You’re a Bronco, be spirited, please take a stand!