Friday, January 9, 2009

Nothing Is For Nothing

Jill Scott

Transcript is below the fold.

This poem is called nothing is for nothing. MMM if you feel it holler when you hear it.  I had been turning tricks longer than I actually knew it.  Being whatever they wanted me to be whenever they wanted me to be it.  A freak, inside, outside kitchen counters, laundry mats, hotels, motels, and backseats of leased cars, vans and jeeps.  Made myself like it 'cause they liked it and I liked that they liked it and so I continued being the perfect image of a wet dream.  Nasty, wild, exotic, erotic, freak was they wanted  so freak was who I was and everybody was walking around talking about me.  Like teenage pregnancy wasn't becoming synonymous with being black and woman like America wasn't suffocating our thoughts.  Like there was nothing to talk about what was doing or screwing and I thought the whole damn thing was ridiculous, which it was.  "Cause I was content giving my men a little heaven between their struggle to breathe and their contemplation of suicide.  Wasn't I good for the cause? Closed mind, open legs, making niggers forget why they're so damn angry. Wasn't I good?  Then the mood swung as well the tempo and I became an ideal.  They want her pretty and docile,  caring and stupid and there I was on your Mark Seth  Joe and I was Suzy homemaker on the hunt for love; cooking and cleaning, ironing and faithful and a freak cause that's what they liked and I liked being what they liked so that's what I was.  A prostitute, selling my soul for emotional gain, struggling not to be the third generation of lonely women in my family.  Struggling to gain but gaining nothing but confusion, frustration, illusion, 'cause there was no love, just empty condom wrappers on the floors to be discarded like me.  A prize performer long before I actually knew it too, 'cause I was faking me out of the me I would become.  The me that I see now. The me that holds onto herself with both hands and all feet.  The me who must have love and give it.  The me who brings more to the table than good looks and a wet hole.  The me that is confident, and intelligent and filled to the brim with respect for me and a freak 'cause that's what I like and I like being what I like and what I like is all a part of what I am.

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