Stone Soup Servings Presents: ThePoet Za’Cari

 

Stone Soup Servings is a regular series for Oddball Magazine that features upcoming performers at Stone Soup Poetry, the long-running spoken word venue in the Boston area that has partnered with Oddball Magazine. Stone Soup Poetry now meets from 8-10 p.m. every Monday at the Out of The Blue Art Gallery’s new location at 541 Massachusetts Avenue in Central Square Cambridge, Massachusetts. The open mike sign-up at 7:30 p.m.

The Monday we feature ThePoet Za’Cari, whose work is presented below.

 

Street/Home-

Stabbed I’m at the bottom never thought life to be fair
Rehab no addiction training these ninjas don’t fight fair
Hands good two of them my impact I win let’s be clear
Fight or flight no plane I stand no grill but beef here
Recovery pain is real mentally physically damaged I’m still here
Boston I love the bean is me I can’t live here
Hold up
Domestic violence happening in homes creating silence
Female victim’s a structure of support their feet never touch ground
Men don’t receive the same structure
Society can’t see a female cutting a man it sees a mother or a lover
That man saw the same before and after the struggle
The damage the same man, woman or child domestic violence remains
Hold up, can’t
In the street & in a home a man, women and child just lost their fight
Someone won’t be coming home

 

Dark Side of the Sun-

Emotionally caged will bring physical limitations/Love leaking from severed bliss
Lost in the moment of hurt & pain/Forgetting other feelings can be reclaimed
Alone facing the process the pain seems to reign/Falling relentlessly upon
shoulders already supporting failure/Wanting to scream but the world so
focused on self who would hear/Tears no longer form to fall
Not for the lack of emotion but purpose/No longer willing to shed tears for
uncontrollable situations/Love carelessly tossed around
Landing upon unsuspecting souls fully committed/But the delivery tossed by
someone unwilling to hang around/A game of duck, duck goose she started
& left as my feelings sat around/Anger builds as I slam my pin/Ink penetrating
through paper pooling on the ground this a murder scene/Death came in the
form of she
The man she murdered me/The poet she only awoken his wrath
Vengeances is the form you see/She knocked me down but not for the count of
3/Vampire scribe my poetry bleeds me

 

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