dimecres, 7 de setembre de 2011

Jennifer Cendaña Armas: dos poemes inèdits

Jennifer Cendaña Armas
Poeta, dramaturga, actriu, ballarina, violinista i activista cultural nascuda a Nova York. Els seus espectacles combinen la poesia, la música, la dansa i el teatre amb vinculacions amb el hip-hop i la immigració. Escriu en anglès, castellà i tagal.

Foto Matilde Campodónico


strong sisters survive slaps and slurs beyond our hip-hop world

stretching seas and skins over scars and whims

cuz we don’t have a dick– remind how we brought about sin

but we wear hope in our eyes, rhyme our cries

below our belly, above our breasts

heading west for the sun and east for the womb

bomb walls cause some brothers
 still go and assume
we ain’t as tight

flows don’t light the light of a greater understanding

beats ain’t as commanding

bop heads amongst truths they hide
so sisters get placed upstage one spot in a crew

where one is too many and zero’s too few

we fight for some time, disregard one another

but if I’m uplifting my sister don’t mean I’m hating my brother

cuz some women, too, will just look at you

bitch, get off the stage
but this culture is also made of
our blood

our feet

our voice
more than catchy hooks and hooch shaking noise

we just as fly when our poems don’t rhyme

and we merely pontificate perfectly delivered diction

hip-hop is our world
we feed on bleed on get our groove on work our learn on

sisters got just as much right to be here

and I ain’t trying to break down a list of everything I don’t do
won’t you show me some goddess blessed respect

cuz that’s still playing a game and this is my yes campaign

cuz I can’t remember the last time we had one–
yes to our ideas

yes to we

yes to making it past the shit we see
yes to our balance

yes to mad loot

yes to el barrio cuz our connection’s not moot

yes to hips swaying cuz my sexuality’s mine

yes to everything more than biding some time

yes to remembering the powers of our mothers
if I’m uplifting my sister don’t mean I’m hating you, brother

it ain’t about them cats

it’s about we

about us

our connection to ourselves

so we don’t see them dudes as a must
the verses we spit

the beats we break

the taggings we tag for sanity’s sake

our bodies rock move smooth our soul

patch visions and knowledge with rhythmic flow
our stories are roots, hip-hop’s our petition

ain’t no progress gonna come without our women’s upliftment



beginning now
I will rub you out
of wishes and dreams
hope will plant again


I will rationalize that
learning to open and love more openly
was worth the in between, grey, sludge
with flashes of red and light

but I am old enough to know better
even then

I wonder why you stayed
give so much in my absence
so little with me here

if I just was to counter your boredom

I do not feel strong most days
the sculpt of calves and biceps
pushups and dance drills
I do not feel strong
and am short on conversation
save for my closest
I do not miss one-word assurances of your presence

I wish I could hate you
list a list of horrible reasonings

but it is that you disappoint

even with the lowest of expectations you disappoint

I am tired of anews started

my friends
we will joke
about poetry being born
(at least)
but I’d rather a heart thriving
than this
figuring a way to heal
in this city
where you led me up and around corners
bled music and dance
onto my skin
I will walk and
find new spaces
apart from you
without your name
or images
or laughs
or claros