Coming to the Stage

Indianapolis poet and performer Januarie York read Coming to the Stage to open and close John and Peter’s August 4 Conversation with DeAmon Harges. Watch the video here.

Coming to the Stage

You don’t have a clue why I do what I do but I do what I do just for you.

For your freedom song to sing above the clouds and cruise at altitudes foreign to you, I want to wipe the dust over your shoulders,

Move the debris out of your pathway

May these poems blow southwest winds against the northwest tumbleweeds that are headed to cloud your dreams.

I write to save the overdrawn from completely checking out

For the Norma Jeans

That get lost in between Monroe hoe tactics,

For the practical and the unpredictable

For the dancers with no balance

For the 5, 6, 7, 8, hundreds of thousands of de-throned kings cooking up rocks in pipes meant for smoking through broken antennas

I write to save the teenage girls because what if I can change her direction

Writing with the blood of the neglected

Writing with the blood of the neglected

I am unprotected

Like a fertile ***** to a ripened ******

Womb tight and pregnant, holding capitalized secrets and lowercase print

It was a cold night in December when I saw a halo hanging over a ballpoint pin

Poetry,

Is my walk-in closet

Kick your feet up in my den of lyrical equity

I do the opposite of what is expected of me,

I started writing to make sense out of the senseless,

My 5 senses would let me miss this, but the ink went blank, so I put my tongue on the tip….

And because I’m a poet,

I ain’t been right ever since

I fear my own lyrical mortality more than my final casket lay

But once I get here

In this space

My own personal Pluto

This here plateau of poetry

The proven history of this violence is that I come alive up here so much

That when you see me sitting

Consider me in my postmortem pose

Postmortem prose

Lights out!

Everybody knows that dying is easy that’s why I stay so pen sick

Almost every time I spit

And you will literally see me spit and I really hate that but-

This is me living

Taking the breath I only get to engulf when I am with you, I guess you could say I wish we lived together

Shacked up and ringless

Menage’a’life me – You, Me,

And this stage

And I don’t need a mic for this,

This is me,

Alive,

Full blown

That’s why my poems be so long because I wanna live for more than 3 minutes most times

So never mind who can’t get it, or who ain’t with it

Bullseye you shot me

But you can’t change who I am

Or alter the trail of my lyrical umbilical that leads to the lights of audience smiles

I get born again up here and I mean it

This is life up here

This is life up here

To lean forward to stand

Hoping not to disappoint this time

Hoping to come alive by rhyme

To be totally honest and 100% true,

And when I come alive on this stage,

I am secretly hoping that I can bring life,

Back to you.

Copyright © 2013 Januarie York. All rights reserved.

Public domain home image by Photo Cindy

About the Lead Author

Januarie York
For over a decade, Januarie York has been carving her own lane in poetry, writing and performance art. Januarie is a freelance writer, published author & poet who, in addition to performing original poetry, has produced several of her own spoken word theatrical shows that focus on uplifting and inspiring women. A recent graduate with her Bachelor's in Criminal Justice, she is currently pursuing her Master's in Positive Psychology. Visit her website Photo courtesy The Learning Tree

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