Gracehoper: a youthful view.
On October 12, 2013, students from InsideOut Literary Arts Project performed poems written in response to Tony Smith’s Gracehoper. The DIA thanks Justin Rogers, a veteran of iOs award-winning national Brave New Voices slam team, and students Kennedie King and Samuel Taylor for sharing their dynamic work.
Courtesy of Samuel Taylor and InsideOut Literary Arts Project.
So me and the gracehoper are friends and I asked him what do you say to someone who ask you where is your heart at The gracehoper said When someone ask me where is my heart at I tell them that it is trapped in there darkness That it is puzzled off into a corner that nobody cares to see because they don't know that it's there I tell them that they have to look outside the box because in these triangles shade can become comfort and you can forget what it's like to shine I tell them to walk pass the doubt To live in hope and not fear what's on the other side When someone ask me where is my heart at I tell them that I collected nickels to be born And rust to be rebuilt I tell them that i am not a sculpture I'm a insect who chooses to stand still tell them That your home is always where your heart is and see I haven't moved since 1972 I've molded into a map that pinpoints the beauty of Detroit So when someone ask me where is my heart at I tell them it's right next to yours
Miniscule in the scheme of things yet still mighty in its worth. Defining Grace.
Courtesy of Kennedie King and InsideOut Literary Arts Project.
Compared to my ultimate grace gifter and the normal grace recipient
My grace hath only given but a fraction of that unspecified amount
And assuming that grace is the unmerited favor of God
Because he loves
Then the dark connectivity hanging low and close
Only temporarily exempts me
From specifically chosen events
But I caution you to not underestimate that that I hold close to me
For its might is greater than that of ten thousand men, muscle bond and strapped with tall fleshy hills
glossed twice over
Encased in it is a love that cannot be explained with the English language alone
And though not as worthy as God himself
Its worth surpasses mere monetary value or its color
An entire heritage thrives in my low and close dark and shinny connectivity
I reclaim my spiritual life
In the running scheme of things I take back was once mine
This old grace its meaning has been rapped, pop-locked and twerked out of existence
What was once a symbol of my family being passed down from generation to generation
Now has a meaning that stands to be unclear
But no longer will I let it fluctuate
In and out of my existence it will not budge
Temporary shall no longer be associated with my grace
My grace in all its miniscule worthy might stays hanging low shinning dark and connectively around my neck.
God in multiple mediums
Courtesy of Justin Rogers and InsideOut Literary Arts Project.
If Gratiot Ave.
hollow life ancient utterance
black, grey, coal, dim fire and riot
happens to be the grace of God,
then Woodward is the devil
with its midtown painted metal
well inhabited street lights
lofts molded homes instead of
If Gratiot is the grace of God
then God is low gloss steel
and American metal dust
keeping the depth
of an abandoned grocery store
no one living across the street
will accept this.
If God is a bus that never comes
grace is living to tell
how that bus came eventually.
if Gratiot is a part of God
then Chicago is doomed
and New York is hell
Media portrayals of Afghanistan
is what writing the old testament
and the void of the ocean
is where angels are born
the crack epidemic was Jesus return
and Detroit is Judgment day.
Grace is hopping around like moon light
and God is darker
than what our eyes understand.
it is all in perception
all in accepting that we are witnessing
the same thing
each in separate manners.