When The Word Is Given

  • Home
  • When The Word Is Given

When The Word Is Given A Podcast on Poetry, Spoken Word, Stories and Journalism. A Podcast on Poetry, Literature, and Emancipatory Journalism.

Omari Hardwick Announces New Spoken-Word Podcast, Will Ask Rappers to ‘Lose the Machismo’ and Recite Poems
18/03/2019

Omari Hardwick Announces New Spoken-Word Podcast, Will Ask Rappers to ‘Lose the Machismo’ and Recite Poems

In one part of his life, Omari Hardwick is a complex, street-savvy tough guy on the show "Power," and in the other he's an accomplished poet. And now he's expanding that second part his career with a…

Happy 15th Birthday Tamir...
26/06/2017

Happy 15th Birthday Tamir...

29/01/2017

Warsan Shire's poem, Home, provides the perfect caption for the images of small unseaworthy boats pack with people, bodies floating in harbors, soldiers and barbed wire greeting the poor, huddled masses yearning to live, only to be stripped of their belongings and thrown into prison camps, or despised wherever they land....

HOME

no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well
your neighbors running faster than you
breath bloody in their throats
the boy you went to school with
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory
is holding a gun bigger than his body
you only leave home
when home won’t let you stay.
no one leaves home unless home chases you
fire under feet
hot blood in your belly
it’s not something you ever thought of doing
until the blade burnt threats into
your neck
and even then you carried the anthem under
your breath
only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets
sobbing as each mouthful of paper
made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back.
you have to understand,
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land
no one burns their palms
under trains
beneath carriages
no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck
feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled
means something more than journey.
no one crawls under fences
no one wants to be beaten
pitied
no one chooses refugee camps
or strip searches where your
body is left aching
or prison,
because prison is safer
than a city of fire
and one prison guard
in the night
is better than a truckload
of men who look like your father
no one could take it
no one could stomach it
no one skin would be tough enough
the
go home blacks
refugees
dirty immigrants
asylum seekers
sucking our country dry
ni***rs with their hands out
they smell strange
savage
messed up their country and now they want
to mess ours up
how do the words
the dirty looks
roll off your backs
maybe because the blow is softer
than a limb torn off
or the words are more tender
than fourteen men between
your legs
or the insults are easier
to swallow
than rubble
than bone
than your child body
in pieces.
i want to go home,
but home is the mouth of a shark
home is the barrel of the gun
and no one would leave home
unless home chased you to the shore
unless home told you
to quicken your legs
leave your clothes behind
crawl through the desert
wade through the oceans
drown
save
be hunger
beg
forget pride
your survival is more important
no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear
saying-
leave,
run away from me now
i dont know what i’ve become
but i know that anywhere
is safer than here

“Yesterday we obeyed kings and bent our necks before emperors. But today we kneel only to truth, follow only beauty, and...
21/01/2017

“Yesterday we obeyed kings and bent our necks before emperors. But today we kneel only to truth, follow only beauty, and obey only love.”

- Kahlil Gibran

"Good things come to those that hustle while they wait."This man sells hats off Broadway Avenue.
03/01/2017

"Good things come to those that hustle while they wait."

This man sells hats off Broadway Avenue.

Congratulations to Daniel Borzutzky  for his book, The Performace of Becoming Human, winning the 2016 National Book Awar...
07/12/2016

Congratulations to Daniel Borzutzky for his book, The Performace of Becoming Human, winning the 2016 National Book Award in the Poetry Category.

An excerpt from: The Performance Of Becoming Human

In The Blazing Cities Of Your Rotten Carcass Mouth:

The children were eating the bushes outside their former houses that had been crushed by The Bank of America.

There was a boy in a bush singing an improvised song about a bulldozer that obliterates the bureaucratic centers of the earth....

Gallery ArtRipped from the rooted trunk,your body stands, staunch,in perpetual pout.Oh sister, your k**b navel is a roug...
26/10/2016

Gallery Art

Ripped from the rooted trunk,
your body stands, staunch,
in perpetual pout.

Oh sister, your k**b navel
is a rough screw in your skin.

I come to witness the coy
of your body, now cleaned up
in the open gallery guarded
by a curator who warns
that my breath on you
may cause you to crumble,
your parts to fall away.

Oh sister, we are a long way
from home, you and I.

- Kwame Dawes, Bruised Totems, 2004

Ghanaian-born Jamaican poet, Kwame Dawes is the award-winning author of twenty one books of poetry (most recently,Duppy Conqueror: New and Selected Poems, 2013) and numerous books of fiction, non-fiction, criticism and drama. He is the Glenna Luschei Editor of Prairie Schooner, and a Chancellor’s Professor of English at the University of Nebraska.


  "May you kissthe wind then turn from itcertain that it would love your back..."Lucille Clifton - Born June 27, 1936 wa...
28/06/2016



"May you kiss
the wind then turn from it
certain that it would love your back..."

Lucille Clifton - Born June 27, 1936 was an African poet, writer, and educator from Buffalo, New York. From 1979 to 1985 she was Poet Laureate of Maryland. Clifton was nominated twice for the Pulitzer Prize for poetry.

Lucille Clifton traced her family's roots to the West African Kingdom of Dahomey, now the Republic of Benin. Growing up she was told by her mother, "Be proud, you're from Dahomey women!"

Photo circa 1960 's - Lucille and her husband, Fred.

Jesse Williams was honored as the Humanitarian of The Year at the 2016 BET Awards on Sunday June 26th, 2017. Here is his...
27/06/2016

Jesse Williams was honored as the Humanitarian of The Year at the 2016 BET Awards on Sunday June 26th, 2017. Here is his acceptance speech...

" This award is not for me. This is for the real organizers all over the country, the activist, the civil rights attorneys, the struggling parents, the families, the teachers, the students that are realizing that a system built to divide and impoverish and destroy us cannot stand if we do.

It’s kinda basic mathematics: the more we learn about who we are and how we got here the more we will mobilize.

This award is also for the black women in particular who have spent their lives nurturing everyone before themselves. We can and will do better for you.

Now, what we’ve been doing is looking at the data and we know that police somehow manage to de-escalate, disarm and not kill white people every day. So what’s going to happen is we’re going to have equal rights and justice in our own country or we will restructure their function and ours.

I got more, y’all. Yesterday would have been young Tamir Rice’s 14th birthday so I don’t want to hear any more about how far we’ve come when paid public servants can pull a drive-by on a 12-year-old playing alone in a park in broad daylight, killing him on television, and then going home to make a sandwich.

Tell Rekia Boyd how it’s so much better to live in 2012 than 1612 or 1712. Tell that to Eric Garner, Sandra Bland.

The thing is though, all of us here are getting money, that alone isn’t going to stop this. Dedicating our lives to getting money just to give it right back, to put someone’s brand on our body -- when we spent centuries praying with brands on our bodies, and now we pray to get paid for brands on our bodies?

There has been no war that we have not fought and died on the front lines of. There is no job we haven’t done, there is no tax they haven’t levied against us, and we have paid all of them.

But freedom is always conditional here. ‘You’re free!’ they keeping telling us. ‘But she would be alive if she hadn’t acted so… free.’

Now, freedom is always coming in the hereafter, but the hereafter is a hustle: We want it now.

Let’s get a couple of things straight. The burden of the brutalized is not to comfort the bystander -- that’s not our job so let’s stop with all that.

If you have a critique for our resistance then you’d better have an established record, a critique of our oppression.

If you have no interest in equal rights for black people then do not make suggestions to those who do: sit down.

“We’ve been floating this country on credit for centuries, and we’re done watching and waiting while this invention called whiteness uses and abuses us, burying black people out of sight and out of mind while extracting our culture, our dollars, our entertainment like oil -- black gold!

Ghettoizing and demeaning our creations and stealing them, gentrifying our genius and then trying us on like costumes before discarding our bodies like rinds of strange fruit.

Just because we’re magic doesn’t mean we’re not real. Thank you.

30/01/2016

“They say that I am a poet

I wonder what they would say if they saw me from the inside I bottle emotions and place them into the sea for others to unbottle on distant shores.

I am unsure as to whether they ever reach and for that matter as to whether I ever get my point across
or my love”.

― Saul Williams

29/01/2016

Warsan Shire's poem, Home, provides the perfect caption for the images of small unseaworthy boats pack with people, bodies floating in harbors, soldiers and barbed wire greeting the poor, huddled masses yearning to live, only to be stripped of their belongings and thrown into prison camps, or despised wherever they land.

HOME

no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well

your neighbors running faster than you
breath bloody in their throats
the boy you went to school with
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory
is holding a gun bigger than his body
you only leave home
when home won’t let you stay.

no one leaves home unless home chases you
fire under feet
hot blood in your belly
it’s not something you ever thought of doing
until the blade burnt threats into
your neck
and even then you carried the anthem under
your breath
only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets
sobbing as each mouthful of paper
made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back.

you have to understand,
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land
no one burns their palms
under trains
beneath carriages
no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck
feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled
means something more than journey.
no one crawls under fences
no one wants to be beaten
pitied

no one chooses refugee camps
or strip searches where your
body is left aching
or prison,
because prison is safer
than a city of fire
and one prison guard
in the night
is better than a truckload
of men who look like your father
no one could take it
no one could stomach it
no one skin would be tough enough

the
go home blacks
refugees
dirty immigrants
asylum seekers
sucking our country dry
ni***rs with their hands out
they smell strange
savage
messed up their country and now they want
to mess ours up
how do the words
the dirty looks
roll off your backs
maybe because the blow is softer
than a limb torn off

or the words are more tender
than fourteen men between
your legs
or the insults are easier
to swallow
than rubble
than bone
than your child body
in pieces.
i want to go home,
but home is the mouth of a shark
home is the barrel of the gun
and no one would leave home
unless home chased you to the shore
unless home told you
to quicken your legs
leave your clothes behind
crawl through the desert
wade through the oceans
drown
save
be hunger
beg
forget pride
your survival is more important

no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear
saying-
leave,
run away from me now
i dont know what i’ve become
but i know that anywhere
is safer than here

28/01/2016

A word after a word
after a word is power.

Spelling - Margaret Atwood


Address


Alerts

Be the first to know and let us send you an email when When The Word Is Given posts news and promotions. Your email address will not be used for any other purpose, and you can unsubscribe at any time.

  • Want your business to be the top-listed Media Company?

Share