Off the Cuffs: Poetry by and about the police Edited by Jackie Sheeler

Read by: Anna/Copley Teen Room

This book includes a wide variety of poems by police officers, witnesses, journalists, bystanders, protesters, victims, perpetrators, and others. It tells the stories of those who have witnessed crimes, who have commited crimes, who’ve worked hard to stop crime. These poems reach out and explain what life in jail is like, what life without Daddy is like when Daddy is sent to jail for something he did wrong. They mention the heartache police officers face every day when they see young children in bad situations, when they are forced to shoot someone to save themselves and others nearby. They share part of the souls of those who were wrongly brutalized by the police, who want justice served. This large collection does not discriminate in any way, shape, or form. It tells police work like it is, the good right along with the bad.

This is a great collection for anyone who enjoys crime literature, or anyone who loves the genre known as Street Lit. or Urban Lit. It’s a gritty telling of the truth, and towards the end, of some people’s dreams which involve the men and women in blue. It shows officers and detectives, not just as the people who wear a uniform and uphold the law, but as the complicated human beings they truly are, just like you and me. Inside, they are no different. They fear, they love, they hate, they cry, mourn, work hard, and try to be the best they can be every day. It’s not always easy. But this book does a great job of portraying all of that through multiple viewpoints. I greatly enjoyed this book and highly recommend it, especially as poetry makes for a quick read. It’s just too bad this book isn’t being printed anymore. I think it should be.  However, you’re in luck, as the BPL has a copy available! So check it out today. You’ll be glad you did.

Remember

Do not forget who I am today,
For tomorrow I will be but a memory.
No longer can we share a story,
Or a touch of hand, for I have gone away.

Do not forget to think of me
Of the dreams we shared of forever,
And of the times we spent together.
I will live on in your memory.

Do not forget to remember me
In times of happiness or sad.
But if you do, do not feel bad,
For I am only in your memory.

In life I wish for you all the joy,
Peace and love that you can be.

“Revolution” by M.

Only we will

kiss the fire

one heart blazes war

but near the sun

comes absolute light

“Friends” by M.

Friends are something

special,

friends are something

you have to hold on to,

make each day last,

keep your friends

close some might say,

but keep your heart

closer.

“The End Of The World As We Know It” by Mary Devine, Teen Librarian

Skyscrapers tipping

Broken windows

the Earth reclaims with Nature

Green lucious trees and plants

Vines winding floor to floor

Animals reclaim their kingdom

Cars and metal become rust

Humanity eliminated

Piles of Dust

All we are is dust in the wind,

Dude!

“I Dance” by Brianna

I dance

dance to the rhythm you left me in

the rhythm that you used when my mom

has your pleasurable shelter.

The type of rhythm that the savages

used when their freedom was about to

come.

I dance to that rhythm. That rhythm

of life.

I see you when I dance

I see the eyes that capture me when

I was born.

The two hands that held me in your

strong arms

the hands that went through dirt and

pulled out the struggles of what you

went through.

But I can’t feel you when I stop

moving.

So I take each step so I can see you

as my father.

I take each step to feel you

but every time I lose my way

try to find music to help me breathe

Sometimes I don’t know who you are

cause when I stop dancing

the building around me shut down

the people turn around and face each other

and the love for each other on the

inside fades away

the bruises on my mom’s arm

appears.

And the happiness you once felt turns to be anger

I wonder why you are like this

cause God stopped playing the music

I wonder why you are not listening

cause the grooviness of your step lost

its way

I wonder why you don’t see me anymore

cause the music in our lives stop showing

a happy image.

I can’t take it when everything stops

cause I stomp my feet to hear singing

and I stomp my feet to the beat to breathe

in life.

I stomp my feet to end the fighting

that’s going on

I tap my feet to bring back your

heart from hell.

I try to bee the reason of the

had autotune violent music in our

house.

But I breathe in the soulness of

the 60′s, 80′s, and 90′s.

To get a trace of what a family

of music should be like.

So I dance, dance to the stress of the beat

I dance, dance to the anger it its

tone.

I swing my hair in the air of

madness

and shake myself up and down

to get the happiness flowing

I sweat cause I need to survive

so I can get a happy home in this

house we call saintairs home.

I dance cause it’s the only freedom

I call my mother.

“DEATH”

THE CRIME,

IN FULL BLOOM,

HERE,

ON A SLOPE DESCENDING,

LUCIEN CARR

BURIED A KNIFE

IN THE HEART

OF HIS BESOTTED STALKER.

CHARACTERIZED AS MUSE,

BUT MORE THAN THAT.

CAPTIVATED BY CARR’S PROFANE RANTS

ABOUT THE PATH TO TRANSCENDENCE

THROUGH PURE CREATIVE EXPRESSION

HIS “NEW VISION”.

Day of Silence is a youth movement protesting the silence caused by harassment, prejudice, and discrimination faced by lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people and their allies. 

 By keeping silent for the day, you are fighting these injustices.

 What are YOU doing to end the silence?

 Come to the Teen Room at the Central Library to sign our banner with messages of hope, love, and encouragement. Show your support by wearing a DOS sticker as well. The two teen librarians, Mary and Anna will be participating in the day by staying silent on and off all day. While one is silent, the other will be available to answer questions and help patrons find the books and information they need. Then they will switch. Consider joining them in their effort to stand with the silent.

The following poem was written today for our Catharsis Through Poetry workshop while thinking about Day of Silence. It was written by an LGBTQ ally who wishes to remain anonymous.

“Love Who You Love”

Injustice.

It happens everyday.

Must I wear this

Rainbow shirt

To show I care?

Can’t we all

Just get along?

You can’t tell me

Who I am

Who to love.

Am I man?

Am I woman?

Or something

In-between?

Do I love her?

Him?

Hän?

Does it matter?

No.

Love who you love.

Be who you are.

*Hän is a gender neutral pronoun in Finnish.

Here is another poem written for yesterday’s “Words In Hand” poetry workshop. This is written by Brianna at the Central Library. It started out as Black Out poetry, where she blacked out the words she didn’t want from a newspaper article, but it quickly turned itself into Found Poetry as she pulled the words out, wrote them down, and added a slew of her own words. Check it out, this is one poem on domestic violence you don’t want to miss!

Response on Domestic Abuse, Without the Fame and Fortune

It has been approximately one and a half years, 18 months, 540 days,  Since I have been with my

 Love.

 Every second of it took my breath away whenever his hands were trying to prevent it from

 Getting anywhere.

I always thought that he wouldn’t hurt a fly just by looking into his hands, while every trade

 Mark showed that he was god’s reborn son.

My love grew founder for him when his eyes looked like it was god’s imagery. His face was so

 Perfect that it looked like he was god’s favorite son.

But the text message from other women felt like his only plans came from his desire to

 Touch without love.

It seemed like he was living in his fantasy, which left me in the cold that ended us in a devils

 Relationship.

 It was as if he loved from below his waist instead of inside his chest.

 It was like his hits meant I love you and his saliva on my face meant I will always be here for

You and I am going to beat the “f” out of you when you get home.

I felt like if I told the police when they arrived on the scene, they would care about women

Telling them she was physically assaulted by her husband, Donald Pillsbury.

But I guess since I am women who lacks Rihanna’s international profile, I get less attitude and

 Less outrage.

Since Rihanna gets lots of tender and care from a person she never seen in her life that is on her

 fan list.

But I don’t understand, how come my scares don’t matter to you.  How come majority pushes

I out the way and celebs get a tender help and hand.

As if my scares are another scum on the wall and Rihanna’s scares are so horrible that can cause

world war two.

But do I have to have rihanna glamour or her fortune to get a hug from people who have gods

Soul.

A boyfriend named Christopher Brown and a name like Robyn Rihanna Fenty to get attention

 and awareness from people who are clones and slaves in popularity’s fields.

 Sexual lyrics in my songs so horny men can save me by what’s under their waist.

No!!! I am a woman that desires respect and justice.

Women that desires care from a police men that is supposed to be doing his or her job.

Domestic violence affects “young, old, rich, poor, urban, saburban, every race, every sexual

Orientation, regardless of income and education.

So I will be damned if I get told by a police that my situation doesn’t matter because I am not a

Celebrity.

But it took me two and a half years, 18 months and 540 days to realize that my boyfriend was

 wrong.

And I will be damned if I get stomped on by feet that is that leads only the heart for the

Stereotypical.

More than ten years after his death, the life and work of Tupac Shakur still resonate with his fans. Primarily remembered as a rapper, he was also a poet. The poem that provided for the title of his published poetry collection follows below.

The Rose That Grew From Concrete

Did u hear about the rose that grew from a crack

in the concrete

Proving nature’s law is wrong it learned 2 walk

without having feet.

Funny it seems but by keeping its dreams

it learned 2 breathe fresh air

Long live the rose that grew from concrete

when no one else ever cared!

I love the image of a rose pushing its way through the solid mass of a sidewalk, finding any slight chance to reach the surface. One of the things Tupac might have been trying to say with this poem was that even though the odds may seem stacked against you, its possible to succeed in what you want. What do you think? If you liked this poem, check out more by the poet here.

Since April is National Poetry Month, it seems like now is an appropriate time to share some poems, new and old, that for one reason or another, are Awesome. We’re going to start off with a suggestion by one teen, Alex. And so, I present to you Still I Rise, by the wonderful poet Maya Angelou.

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

The power in those words, huh?! Incredible. My favorite line is “with the certainty of tides.” I love the idea that the speaker’s willpower is a force of nature just like the tide. If you like this, feel free to check out other poetry of Angelou’s here. And if you have a favorite poem, leave a comment so we can post it later this month.

Our last poetry workshop on Thursday went really well. The Magnetic Poetry proved to be an interesting medium with which to write poetry. So come by next Tuesday for lots of fun and food!