Sum Sh*t I Wrote, Cafe Noir Edition
Before Love Jones there was Café Noir, a quarterly event the African American Theatre Ensemble at my alma mater used to host, where they would turn part of the Norris University Center into makeshift coffeehouse and open up the mic to all the Darius Lovehalls and Nina Mosleys on campus.
And before I was a serious journalist I was a dude on campus known to pen the occasional poem because I thought I was clever, and because it was my understanding that ladies really dug that stuff.
I mention that here because a few minutes ago I came across two drafts of a poem I performed one year. Luckily I ditched cursive for the second draft, which allows me to actually read what I’ve written.
I’ll post it below, so you all can laugh along with me… or at me…
It’s strange that I’m a little embarrassed about showing this to the world right now. As a college student I’d have shouted it through a megaphone.
A few things stand out.
1. That last stanza…yikes! My awkward homage to Bob Marley’s unrequited yearning. Glad I recognized even then that it sucked. Pretty sure that last passage didn’t survive the next edit but I’ll be damned if I can find the final draft of that poem. I barely found this one.
2. My handwriting… compared to today it was impeccable. Seriously.
3. I took myself soooooo seriously!
Thing is, I can’t even remember which pretty young lady I wrote this poem about. Trying to cross-reference with calendars and historical document and just can’t figure it out, which raises the possibility that I was writing about a more general angst.
That’s even more pathetic.
Darius Lovehall meets Dawson Leary.
Clearly I survived whatever it was I was going through, and these days I can laugh at that stuff — after I cringe.
But back then?
It was Urgent Like A Muthafu*ka…
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