Selections from preConception
AN UPCOMING POETRY COLLECTION
BY TANNUR “SHEWRIGHTZ” ALI
Power Poet, Tannur “Shewrightz” Ali, settled into her identity as a writer at 14 years old. That’s the year she self-published her first volume of poetry, entitled Rhymin’ With Reason. The same year Rhymin’ was published, Tannur entered Saul Agricultural High School with visions of someday owning an equestrian ranch.
She now runs iLOGIC Sustainable Industries and Solomon’s Garden, both based on her Alabama homestead. She produces naturally grown fruits, vegetables and herbs, raises chickens, runs a campground and enjoys the company of her dog dynasty and two cats.
Passionate about the importance of Black land ownership, Tannur conducts Homestead Incubation Trainings that prepare city-bred folks for building, living and growing on the land. She has built two bamboo shower houses, a deluxe chicken coop, two cedarwood-enhanced semi-outdoor kitchens and a village of dog houses. Although the horses have not yet arrived on the homestead, their space is designated and awaiting their occupancy.
And she still finds time to write! In this issue of KIZA, we are sharing “Affirmation” and “Tables of Conversion,” two selections from Tannur’s upcoming volume of poetry entitled preConception. The volume includes poetry that ranges from Tannur’s earliest days of writing to her year-and-a-half tour of 10 states, on a homeschooling journey with her three children.
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AFFIRMATION
© 2018
I am stone and sculptor.
Dark matter disaster
Turned beautiful reminder
Freedom, over yonder…
Star dust, I know my way home
Although I know it travels with me
I am sea and sailor
Crashing waves of my own design
Permission given as I thrive
As I arrive in rapture, I will capture
Purpose
And know it
I promise,
There are no promises
I know this
We all are permanent
Marks in the DNA of Universal tendencies
With propensity to kill shit
I am made of light and breath
Spirit being
Mother of Action
Cradled in Love-Light
And know no distraction
I mean, Know, my attraction
To climactic realities
Is byproduct of
Love-sharing tendencies
A life magnetic with abundance
All mindful in my oneness
All concentrated
Stardust
Dark-dangerous sunray
Bringing in the break of day
And capturing the night in light
And story
Walk like glory
Touching rainbows and sending light
To those actively seeking
Or coming into being
Or walking lines between dimensions
I am Quantum Physics incarnate
Wave and particle
Principle element
Manifest
I don’t know crescendo
I know the levels
And tread lightly
Knowing the balance is delicate
She writes in permanent
All Indigo-Creative
All in the flow
She made it
Makes it daily
Crochet galaxies between
Dimensions
And operates nonlinearly
So folks be waiting,
Bated breath for her revolutions
And this is me
Talking to the Angels
And following the flow
Speaking to Existence
And listening, to know
I’ve been making sweet love to the crux of my desire
The Self who knows what heaven is
The Me who lives inside her
I am stone and sculptor.
Dark matter disaster
Turned beautiful reminder
Freedom, over yonder…
Star dust, I know my way home
Although I know it travels with me
TABLES OF CONVERSION
© 1995
See, she and her grandma were tight
Like most be
Loving each other was
In their genes
Their names were
Mama Jilly and Baby Jean
One day Jean was standing in the door
With wide eyes
Quietly crying
“Why?”
For she didn’t understand
And cried
“Grandma, why you gotta die for?
Why you closing your eyes for?
Why don’t you smile, anymore?”
She replied
“Baby, what I gotta lie for? No reason
Same reason, to answer your question
‘What I gotta die for?’”
“But Nana, where you going when you die?
For, I heard there’s no room in the sky anymore
No extra wings to glide through the doors
No golden trimmed marble floors anymore
What’s more, I heard they never truly were there before.”
She said
“Baby, we’ll see when I blink and don’t see you anymore.”
She blinked
“Baby, I don’t see you anymore.”
Without resistance, her grandma swiftly went the distance
Non existence
Oblivion
Jean was still reminiscent of the way things were
Mind set in prior thoughts
Because
She’d been so long—
Now, they called it
“wrongly conditioned”
But to remember
Oh!
The way “heaven” sounded
Every time she said it, majestic
Ooohhhs and aaahhhs resounded
Though that mystic way of thought never quite
Grounded her
But how profound to her
It sounded
To maybe become another being
When her body was six feet under
Ground
And wow
How about a butterfly
Then
Like heaven on Earth
She could fly
Or a cheetah
Could you conceive of such speed?
She could be anything
The telephone as it rings
Create mystery and anxiety in the minds of many teens
And how many more things she could be
In carnation
With beliefs of reincarnation
But what about hell?
Could you tell the changing times?
Could you rap unwritten rhyme?
Could you set truth apart if it masquerades
In disguise as a lie?
Or does truth tell lies?
Does it simply hide the
Who’s, what’s and why’s of life?
Or are we just not opening our eyes? And why
And one more thing
I mean, we all know the stories
Of heaven, hell, reincarnation
And the obliteration of our souls
After death
But what about purgatory?
The place they say is between
Heaven and hell
But they say
Heaven is a pretty car
And hell is the ghetto
But I’ve seen some pretty cars in the ghetto
And I’ve seen the ghetto
In some
Damn nice cars
I’ve seen bloody wars in front
Of holy doors
I’ve seen dogs walking on two feet
And men begging with all fours on the floor
So how does one tell me when I’m between them all?
I feel like I’m in the middle of it all
So I’m just wondering if
As the story of my life unfolds
I should entitle it
Heaven
Hell
Or Purgatory