This is my attempt to rectify that. I trust you, my homies in the blogosphere enough to share my writing with you. Most of it will probably still be in draft form, but all of it is open for feedback and critique. Be gentle, though. "I'm an artist...and sensitive about my shit"
I straight up plagiarized that from Elament...:-)
Anyway...here is the first bit of something I finished last night...good bye writers block...hopefully. It's a bit lengthy, so I'll post it in parts. Please share your thoughts.
enjoy!
Baby B – Susan Baba – Tue June 16,09
I.
A woman holds a baby on the 8th floor maternity ward
Although she is a little scared
Her body still a little scarred
This baby means the world to her
“Do you love me baby?”
She gently coos
“Do you love me?”
She knows her baby cannot hear her
And even if she did, she could not understand
But she asks anyway
“If you knew this world I was borning you into, baby, would you still love me?”
Baby looks up with knowing eyes
Although she does not know
II.
She cannot know that in an hour
Her body still shivering from the sudden absence of her mother’s placenta will be alone again
She cannot know that a man
A pimp
A marketer
A seller of love to little girls with absent fathers
A seller of hope to men who have grown bored of all they have become
Will leave her with no one
As quickly as she has come into this world
She will be alone again
She will not see him walk through the doors as her mother coos on
She will not hear as he hurls insult after insult to her giver of life
She will not feel as her mother’s lifeless body collapses at her side
She will never hear the gunshot
He will never look her in the eyes
His grudge isn’t against baby, anyway
But her mother
A hooker
Trying to play house
He will spit at her and leave
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