The VCR Diaries: A Poetic Documental based on the Novel Erased
The Lights have dropped. It’s not a total black out. Not yet anyway. You can hear the questions and the
whispers. None of them however are
stronger than the darkness. Reece is the
last woman standing, and her platform is beginning to look like a trap. It remains erected, but it’s obvious she’s
going to need to move around. It’s the
look on her face that sends this message.
It says she’s got a head full of thoughts. It’s not even on her chest. No, it’s right at the tip of her tongue.
Her Diary- Reece
It looks like a little black
book. The pages are red with blue lines,
and there aren’t much of them. I told
you… it’s all in her head. The
handwriting is large at times, and at other times small. It’s the difference between her whispers and
her shouts. It’s also the difference
between her secrets and her attire. It
simply looks like a small book with a big roar, and if it doesn’t start
talking, the crowd will go first.
The Trap
Tiny feet,
Small hands,
Loud screams,
Louder yells..
It’s hell.
Diapers sag for way too long,
Meals remain in their boxes,
While stomachs growl.
The noise is record breaking,
And sometimes if you wait long
enough,
You can see the records breaking
against the wall.
By the time I was sixteen,
My back was against the wall.
It was too hard,
And my vision was too soft,
One had to go..
Slow,
And steady my bag danced with me.
Years passed,
Tears got lost,
I never took the double take,
And for my own sake.
I packed up some of the voices though,
And it was long before I realized.
By the time they sounded off,
My socks were off.
Still meals were slow,
And eardrums were weak,
Week to week,
Lap to lap,
I got my back off the wall.
Now I don’t do walls,
Don’t sit on them,
Don’t paint them,
And certainly don’t fall off of them.
I stuff it all here,
In these pages,
Where red ink,
Meets red paper,
And blue lines,
Replaced chalk lines.
No I’m no cut out,
No cookie cut,
And no cookie cutter.
I’m ever flowing,
And upstream.
I’m ever stretching,
And under stream.
I got my roots laid out,
Somewhere between,
That old bag I still keep,
And that old bag that couldn’t keep me.
I stay afloat,
I vote,
I sometimes appear to gloat…
But I’m no green skirt,
And I’m no black jack.
I stay afloat,
I vote,
And every time I beat the trap,
I appear to gloat.
The Poem titled A Talent Never Realized comes from a past collection by the author NaTisha Renee Williams. Copyright 2006, 2011. All Rights Reserved by the Author and permission is granted by the author Natisha Renee Williams for use in The VCR Diaries produced in 2018 by Grace Call Communications, LLCI appear to gloat.
A Talent Never Realized
It
jiggles like jello,
While
the tiny window,
Between
your thighs,
Is
where every spectator’s,
Eyes
lie,
The
crowd is roaring,
Your
butt cheeks are clapping,
Young
and old alike,
They’re
all digging you,
And
anticipating your next move,
So
with a quick full-split,
And
with your head damn near,
Touching
your toes,
You
show them more of what you can do,
See,
ain’t no other sixteen year old,
Can
do it quite like you do,
So
although your baby sister,
Is
the academic genius,
You
remain,
The
number one source of entertainment,
To
your mother,
And
all her friends,
And
you don’t mind performing,
At
every family gathering,
Cause
it’s the only time,
You
don’t have to hear,
You’re
stupid,
And
it’s the only time your mother,
Seems
proud to be a mother,
And
all the other kids just look on,
In
amazement,
Calling
your moves,
TALENT,
And
it’s the only time,
You
get to hear the word talent,
And
with all the excitement,
No
one remembers to ask you,
Where
you’d learn your moves,
And
no one cares to see,
That
you got a personal trainer,
Rapist,
Boyfriend,
More
than ten years your senior,
And
no one seems to notice,
The
bruises on your neck,
From
the way he grips on,
While
riding you,
Steadily
from behind,
Cause
he likes the view,
And
no one seems to care,
That
everything came to ripe,
Overnight,
Cause
just a few months ago,
You
still looked sixteen,
But
now you’re passed off for,
Your
mother’s younger sister,
And
your mother would rather,
Look
like your sister,
‘Cause
that sistah’s getting older,
But
no closer,
To
being a mother,
So
another year passes,
And
you stopped going to classes,
Cause
you can’t see pass,
The
lower class,
And
you don’t know the value,
Of
an education,
Because
with poor diction,
All
your mother said was,
“Cause
I said so”,
But
she forfeits to tell you,
The
real reason,
You
should stay in school,
So,
Today
at seventeen,
To
meet your man’s needs,
For
you to have a good weave,
And
pedicured feet,
You
decide to take the act,
A
few blocks down the street.
On
a small stage,
You
fill the room,
And
steal the show,
And
watch the side pockets,
Of
your thongs grow,
And
no one will ever know,
All
you really wanted to be,
Was
a track Pro,
Like
Jackie Joyner Kersey,
And
worst,
You
will never know,
That’s
what those long legs were for.
To Read Reece's Excerpt from the book Erased:
To begin the Novel Erased
All Poems Written by NaTisha Renee Williams
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. Written permission must be secured from the author Natisha R. Williams and/or Grace Call Communications, LLC to use or reproduce any part of this Literary Work, except for brief quotation in critical reviews or articles. The VCR Diaries Copyright 2018 by Natisha Renee Williams, All Right Reserved. The Poem titled A Talent Never Realized comes from a past collection by the author NaTisha Renee Williams. Copyright 2006, 2011. All Rights Reserved by the Author and permission is granted by the author Natisha Renee Williams for use in The VCR Diaries produced in 2018 by Grace Call Communications, LLC
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