Dead Poet Presents: Graveshift, A Poetry Compilation (Vol. 1)

 

“Someone needs to work the graveyard shift to keep an eye on the Dead Poets.”

dp01ph: Angelica Litsiou

 

Dead Poets is proud to announce Graveshift, an initiative started by Omit Limitation with the intent to involve you—our audience—with the poetry content of this page. Graveshift is meant to be a compilation of different poems by different poets all across Toronto. All poems will be written by you, and for you.

Without further ado, Dead Poets presents to you the first installment of Graveshift.

 

20:00 hrs

 

Love Scars

You carry them with you

All these burdens in your heart

Traces of hands on your body

Imprints of lust tearing you apart

You tell yourself “choke it up”

When their scent still burns on your skin

But it’s the only thing you remember

You feel like you can’t leave him

You always told me

my home was my own body

I thought that home

Was lying with yours

dp02

There is no right answer

There is no right way to handle this

Isn’t that right babe?

You stole some of the gold

Latched on to my soul

And tried to fill my head with black

There is no right answer

There is no right way to handle this

Isn’t that right babe?

You pick up and leave

When you said you would stay

dp03

Take a bite of me gorgeous

I’ll have you pleading

You taught me the difference

Between wanting someone

And needing

I wanted your body

But your love I kept feeding

I needed your violence

I needed to be screaming

I needed your hands on my skin

I needed that feeling

I wanted you to love me

I wanted you to be greedy

Take a bite of me gorgeous

I’ll have you pleading

Angelica Litsiou

 

2100 hrs

“The insanity will break us free”

dp04

Addicted to the feeling of working hard,

accomplishing goals,

I love the feeling,

of connecting with other people’s souls,

trying my best to cover any holes,

the holes in the hearts of humanity,

not trying to save the insanity,

It’s what makes us unique,

I’m here to speak,

on matters of the “freaks”, the different, broken or lonely,

so listen closely,

the flaws you chose to embrace make you holy,

if only,

you’d boldly stick out,

the clones don’t seem to matter,

just slowly embrace who you are,

why deny the truth,

I’m here to symbolize the youth,

of the lost and forgotten,

so feel free, to join me,

one day it’ll all be better,

If you see yourself … as buried treasure.

dp04I’m here to symbolize the youth.

Daniela Campos

 

2200 hrs

 Not the Same Thing

 

She clutches her purse as he walks towards her,

wearing nothing but stereotypes on his skin.

He is stopped at the airport, for wearing prejudice on his head.

Her eyes, though small, see the stereotypes in the rearview mirror, yet most people

Still think she can’t understand a word they say,

Because all of them talk, look, and act the same.

Yet in his rear view mirror, he sees the eight years of education, behind him.

A man who was once a doctor in his homeland, sits in the front seat,

As his customers, make comments because he smells of prejudice.

To him, his position means nothing to everyone because he was given it.

Hard-work, sweat, tears and blood cloud the idea,

That prejudicial privilege prevents pleasure for his position,

Perpetuating, a plea for his problem,

Pinpoint and Proceed.

He wants to be looked up to, but instead everyone thinks he looks down at them.

Anywhere, and everywhere, they hear nothing but jokes,

That are borderline bad.

Because, apparently their accent labels them as one race.

He is not Mexican,

but Colombian, Peruvian, Chilean.

He is from Ecuador, Costa Rica, Uruguay, Dominican Republic, El Salvador, Guatemala, Venezuela, etc.

She is not Chinese,

Or be it Oriental,

She is Filipino, Vietnamese, Indonesian, Mongolian, Korean, Japanese, Singaporean, Malaysian, Thai, Taiwanese,

Not the same thing,

She is from Laos.

Speak Loud,

He is not brown,

or a terrorist.

Get this,

He is from Sri Lanka, Kuwait, Lebanon

He is Indian, Afghani, Arabian, Iraqi, Israeli,

Pakistani, not Paki

Not the same thing.

He is not white.

He is Italian, Portuguese, British, Scottish, Irish, German,

She is Swiss, Swedish

Not the same thing.

He is Canadian, American, Polish, Ukrainian,

Not the same thing.

He is not black.

He is Nigerian, African, Jamaican, Kenyan, Somali, Caribbean,

He is from Ethiopia, Algeria, Niger, Trinidad.

She is pretty for a dark-skinned girl.

What is that supposed to mean?

For God’s sake,

Beauty comes in every color.

We were never meant to be color blind,

Ignorance seems to be the best friend of racism.

If we eliminate color,

We no longer have a palette of beauty.

Every shade and tone on our skin,

Was God painting another masterpiece.

Accept the color of your skin and theirs,

And pay homage to it.

We were given races, though none of them were supposed to finish first or last.

Each race was supposed to stand at the finish line,

Together.

Hand in Hand.

Honoring the history,

Of not what it means to be black, white, yellow, or brown.

But to honor what it means to have culture.

They are not the same thing.

—Aiken Yong (typography by Jamie Alferez & Aiken Yong)

 

 

 

Where To Find the Gravediggers:

Angelica Litsiou: http://vngelicv.portfoliobox.me

Daniela Campos: http://www.lunadiosa69.com/

Aiken Yong: https://www.instagram.com/_aikong_/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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