Poetry for January is all about diversity, altruism, emotion and meaning with words shared by Simon Moya-Smith, Anthony Desmond, Shari LeKane-Yentumi, Ian Stewart Black, Laura La Veglia and Kelvin Oba
The ‘I’ Word
The ‘I’ Word. … It’s like the N word. It’s derogatory. It’s
churlish. It’s rotten, rank and wrong. It tastes like a gutter apple.
It’s an all-American, time-tested fungus. It lives in the brain and
wriggles on the tongue. It’s a White Man’s song still brazenly sung.
Injun. THAT is the ‘I’ Word. It’s the hair in your meal. It’s the
bitter’s bile. It’s an American style. It punches and pierces the
eardrum. It’s a Q-tip dipped in venom. Venom. Venom.
An anthem and ode; a wart-riddled toad.
By night and day, the word – so cold – is a word so old, yet keeps a
youthfulness so frighteningly, so arrogantly bold.
Oh, alas, my fellow unshackled mind, my friend found in the mass so
curious and kind, lose the word that wriggles on your tongue, never to
sing that sour song so often sung. Lose the word, yes, that one. The
‘I’ Word. The ‘I’ Word. Injun.