Picks, Pistols, and Prayers - on amazon!

Hi there.

Have I mentioned that Picks, Pistols, and Prayers is available for download on Amazon?

Sometimes I forget to tell people these things, but they're kind of important. I'm kinda used to selling cds in person out of my trunk ;) - but I suppose it is a new era.

So, if you would like it - or just a track or two - we can make that happen right here:

http://www.amazon.com/Picks-Pistols-And-Prayers/dp/B002B3D3T4

Thank You, Denver.

Firstly, thank you. Thank you Denver, thank you Slam Nuba, thank you Crossroads Theater, thank you Ashara and the entire Pan African Arts Society family, thank you Chinook Fund, thank you Untitled at the Denver Art Museum, thank you DJ SD, thank you DJ Cavem, thank you Little Man Ice Cream, thank you Root Down, thank you Mercury Cafe, thank you Poets, thank you friends, thank you very much for your support, your love, your faith. Thank you for walking a ways with me and the Slam Nuba team along this journey.

Last night was amazing and beautiful. It was great to see such a packed house to send us off to the National Poetry Slam in West Palm Beach, FL next week. We will keep you in our hearts and minds while we go represent this magnificent city.

Slam Nuba showcased a bit of the poetry that we will be taking with us, and I am so glad you got to see what we’ve been working on! It was really a fun show, and it was wonderful to have so many of you with us.

This is my first year serving as coach, and when I watch these brilliant poets perform, I feel proud and grateful – and SUPER EXCITED FOR NEXT WEEK!!!!!!

So again I say, Thank You. Thank You. Thank You.

Heroes - This is dedicated to Michael Jackson

We ask where all of our heroes have gone
even as we pick their skin from our teeth.
We love them as our favorite foods, consume them to extinction and wonder
(while we rub our bellies) why our table seems so bare.

We snort their guitar licks, guzzle their voices,
chomp on their words as if they are owed us
Poets light themselves on fire
because they can't help it and we gather round
to warm our hands upon such a lovely glow

We maim our leaders for their presumption to lead
and cry foul when we are lost, we mourn our losses
yet never consider them consequence
to our own greedy violence

We devour the fruit until the tree will bear no more
and feel betrayed once we've eaten it barren.
We have become vampires. We have made ourselves cannibals,
quick to throw her in the pot when she is no longer beautiful,
toss him in the fire once we cease to find him useful.

Still form our mouths around words like love
simply regurgitating pieces of the spirits we have swallowed
in a desperate attempt to remember their taste

I belch bitter eulogies in apology, blood still fresh on my lips,
I'm sorry to all who died just trying to love us
We snatched at your flesh while you still had breath,

gnawed your bones in search of redemption
as if to touch the hem of your garment
we worship and hate with equal fervor, waving our
knives and forks for the next big thing.

Jump Back, Honey, Jump Back

“Don’t forget who you are,”
She said.

“Don’t forget when you’re out there
with your friends
that before you were born
there was a place for you here, in my house

where we sing like Angels
dance like drops of water in a hot iron skillet
and glow like distant stars.”

We stay up late with the hot comb and grease
We wake up early for braids and beads
We walk to church five times a week

“There is still a place for you here, in my house,”
She says,
“where we shower love and sprinkle correction
smile into each other like mirrors
and remind ourselves of Home.”

Nana will let you eat steak at midnight
Nana will cry sometimes for no reason
Nana will open her doors for you

“There will always be a place for you here, in my house,”
She says,
“when it turns cold outside and you’ve gone too far
when the street lights come on and you see
the game is over.”

Leading me out of the lion’s mouth
though my soul looks back and wonders how
I think I understand what she’s been talking about

“Don’t forget who you are,”
She said.

“Always remember where you come from.”

For My Daughter

it's getting harder to tell
your socks from mine,

i suppose it's only a
matter of time

before you won't fit
on the curve of my lap,

and soon will end the days
of our piggy-backs,

you are nearly not ticklish.

i am increasingly awed
by your astute observations,

my mouth agape after
morning conversations



every day finds you lovelier.

Recent Haiku

dream courageously
for before there was color
there lived the idea.

Sugar, here's the thing:
In loving you, I don't cease
to also love me.

in the beginning
we spoke by melting fluid
into each other.

in pursuit of growth
seedlings transform toward sunlight,
shells must be broken


on soaring: look up
fix eyes on destination
breathe steady and go

our harmonies burst
as giggles from nervous girls
and yet we still sing

song becomes bullet
protruding past lips and teeth
dangerously alive

Live Performances

If you feel like watching:

Lazarus - Live at Seattle Poetry Slam
www.youtube.com/watch?v=H_0uS1Po8Mo


Dear Huey & Weather Underground - Live at the End the War Rally @ State Capitol
www.youtube.com/watch?v=NSJUelz0kHM


Blue - Live at CCA / Poets on the Loose!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=d-ANM85DckU

We Have Not Gone

I have bled rivers
the words have been snatched
as the tongue from my mouth

I have known music
enough to quake and erupt
have wept hurricanes

and danced all sort of disaster
and when you are very quiet
you will hear us hum

we have not gone, could not go
any more than a heart
departs from a breast

we remain
in huddled masses, we wash ashore
from tossed at sea

it is our blood,
our bruises
made purple mountain majesty

I have known labor
and the miracle of birth
and this earth is in need of seeding

this is not invention, only call it
resurrection as the tide is turning,
we are returning

for just such a time
for just such a place
as this.

c. 2009 Suzi Q. Smith

The Rope’s Result

it's like you're all in it together





bouncing me playfully between midnight





and midnight





always with the promise of day





I am often



without a friend in the world


I am always


the only one
that knows this.

c. 2008 Suzi Q. Smith

For My Dear Ones

I love you because your heart is a homeless shelter. A refugee camp. An orphanage. A center for wayward youth.

I love you because you are the proud smile of a six-year-old child missing teeth.

I love you because you have the arms of a mighty oak.You hold them out as a fortress,stretch them low as a ladder, reach them high as a song of praise.

I love you because holding your gaze from across a roomtickles me in places I am not used to being seen or touched.

I love you because I can't help it, you unravel my armor by showing up without yours.

I love you because I never have to shrink to fit inside the palm of your hand.

I love you because the best in you never stops getting better.

c. 2009 Suzi Q. Smith