Author
Poet
Screenwriter
Hoodlum
Breeze Vincinz
BREEZE LOVE SOUL
TEAPOT
© Breeze Vincinz
i do what i do
i be what i be
you be you
we be we
i be the boy
you be the girl
we be the people
who still loves the world
i be the teapot
short and stout
i be the road with
an untraveled route
i be the lion
with fluffy hair
i be the vagabond
with foul hair
i am the wall that
the swastika’s under
i am the tuna in an
oil spill blunder
i be the pen cap
thrown on the floor
i be a part of this pen capped world
i am the face of
the ugly girl
i am the christian
boy’s view of the world
i am the dirt
i am the tree
i am you
uou are me
you are a teapot
short and fragile
i am the freedom
that should be here by now
i am the night as it
fall on the city
i am the tongue on
a lover’s tittie
i am the child in
the wound
i am dying soon
i am the phoenix
from my own ashes
i am the pain of the master’s lashes
i be the reflection
of my precious lord
and she is phenomenal
and we are the world
i am the pathetic
in a rapist’s plea
i am the athletic
in m.j.’s knee
i am brother
to phyliss
i am sister
to venus
i’m a brother
with a plan
i’m a sister
with a penis
i’m a brother with a uterus
instead of a brain.
i am blind and dumb
and i want to see again.
i am the sun
when it kisses the sky
i am the son who
kisses other guys
i am trying to understand
everything around me
i want to be of the world
i want the world to be of me
i want to teach the world to sing
then i want it to rap
then i want it to be computer literate
i want it to be able to laugh
i want to ride my bicycle
i want to braid my hair
i want to hug the ground right now
and thank it for being there
i am the cat in the room
that doesn’t see you make love
i am the cat in the room
that doesn’t look ahead but above
i be the boy who’s in love with boys
i be the girl who’s in love with girls
i be the globe that loves the man
i be the man who loves the world
i do what i do
i be what i be
you be you
we be we
I am proudly a part of a travelling band of “poet gypsies” affectionately organized as “PoetsJazzHouse,” where spilling your heart is art, searching your soul is mandatory to get in the door, and the cover charge is always free. By “gypsy” I mean sometimes we had an actual venue to spit at and other times, we just had to flow on the street corner or a nearby park. Unlike a lot of Spoken Word outfits, particularly in Los Angeles, we are an all-inclusive, low-key, low-maintenance, ragtag motley group of artists addicted to words, the moon, and connecting with people. There were a lot of times people wanted to join in on the experience, but felt they were unqualified or unworthy to speak on whatever platform we were performing. So our fearless leader, Tuesday Conner, came up with this concept of “Homework,” where she would provide three prompts, and everyone in attendance had to finish one. Either you finish one, and you keep it to yourself, you finish one, and you get up and read it yourself, or you finish one, and you give it to someone else to read. But you HAD to do your homework. One particular week, the prompt was “I do what I do...” This was my result.
Writer's Notes
Writer's Notes
I am proudly a part of a travelling band of “poet gypsies” affectionately organized as “PoetsJazzHouse,” where spilling your heart is art, searching your soul is mandatory to get in the door, and the cover charge is always free. By “gypsy” I mean sometimes we had an actual venue to spit at and other times, we just had to flow on the street corner or a nearby park. Unlike a lot of Spoken Word outfits, particularly in Los Angeles, we are an all-inclusive, low-key, low-maintenance, ragtag motley group of artists addicted to words, the moon, and connecting with people. There were a lot of times people wanted to join in on the experience, but felt they were unqualified or unworthy to speak on whatever platform we were performing. So our fearless leader, Tuesday Conner, came up with this concept of “Homework,” where she would provide three prompts, and everyone in attendance had to finish one. Either you finish one, and you keep it to yourself, you finish one, and you get up and read it yourself, or you finish one, and you give it to someone else to read. But you HAD to do your homework. One particular week, the prompt was “I do what I do...” This was my result.
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