Spotlighting Pan-African Poetry

Biography

Loyce Gayo

Featured Poem:

How We Forget

Enlarge poem

We forgot we were worshipping beings,

We forgot you black Jesus

We forgot the king of kings

We forgot crowns do nothing or kings but put weight on their heads (and a target not their backs)

We forgot they put tax on our heads (and work on our backs)

We forgot Sodom and Gomorrah were levelled by brimstone and divine judgement,

But Mississippi is still standing,

We forgot burning cities,

We forgot cities are still burning

We forgot colors are seasonal,

And that this skin will fade too

I forgot my skin,

Or perhaps I just ran out of fucks to give.

We forgot some kid’s utopia,

Is a roof that won’t whisper in the night to the sleeping bodies below,

We forgot bodies sleep bellow,

We forgot bodies float, bodies hang,

We forgot Barbecue Postcards, Strange Fruit and hooded men.

I forgot rage.

And the pulse it leaves underneath my tongue

I forgot my tongue

And how it used to fit so perfectly in my purse next to my womanly duties.

I forgot my purse,

And my high heel stilts,

I forgot balancing is no longer an act,

When I am hiding behind imported hair,

A downloaded smile,

A painted on smile

A painted on face

And a voice trained to jump through hoos of flames to get you snaps and applause,

You don’t get it.

Shoot, you already forgot you woke up this morning,

You forgot to close the faucet when you were scrubbing that pot, that plate, that spoon or your left but cheek or whatever,

But you remember how that song goes right?

You remember how it went.

You remember you want your Grande Chai Latte with 3 Pump, Skim Milk

Lite Water, No Foam,

And served at 120 degrees.

You remember how spiritual of an experience it was

I forgot where I wrote this,

I forgot if I was just ranting,

Or if I forgot to close the faucet when I was scrubbing a pot or a plate ot a spoon or my tongue, or whatever

But I remember how this goes

I remember how spiritual of an experience this is

I forgot my heart is a burning city

Shoot, you already forgot , I forgot my tongue ,

Remember?

We forgot that some kids walk past their utopia every morning,

Suburban brinks stand in proclamation of what statistics say they will never truly attain.

We forgot some kids try so hard to forget tomorrow is coming,

We forgot there were kids in burning cities,

Smiling in barbecue postcards

Next to strange fruit and hooded men

Or perhaps we never had any fucks to give…

You know sometimes we forget how hard it is to remember.

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (23)
  • Pride (10)
  • Optimism (8)
  • Anger (13)
  • Delight (3)
  • Inspiration (25)
  • Reflection (26)
  • Captivation (11)
  • Peace (2)
  • Amusement (3)
  • Sorrow (8)
  • Vigour (3)
  • Hope (3)
  • Sadness (6)
  • Fear (3)
  • Jubilation (3)

Comments

  1. I’ve listened to her recite this over and over and it never gets old. The emotion and passion with which it is conveyed is phenomenal. Reading it now, every line seems perfectly phrased, so succinct and poignant. Very refreshing.

    Annette
  2. Nasahau mara ngapi nimesikiliza sahiri hili, Lakini kila wakati nasikia sauti mpya. This is profound. Asante sana Loyce

    Audreynalucy
  3. First time I listened to her and I was like “this chic from Compton or Brooklyn is awesome” only to find out anatoka Dar-es-Salaam. Now I write poems because I don’t wanna forget myself in my perspectives. Damn girl…

    Morpheus Cannus

Your email address will not be published.

All

Biography

Loyce Gayo was born in Tanzania and is currently pursuing a degree in African and African Diaspora Studies with a Minor in Mathematics at the University of Texas in Austin. Gayo’s time in the diaspora and her constant desire to go home has profoundly influenced her craft. Gayo was the Slam Champ of the UT Spitshine Poetry Slam team who won the 2014 College Unions Poetry Slam Invitational in Boulder Colorado. Gayo currently serves as a member of the Austin TheySpeak Youth Slam that will be competing in the 2014 Brave New Voices in Philadelphia.

Loyce Gayo

All

Biography

Loyce Gayo was born in Tanzania and is currently pursuing a degree in African and African Diaspora Studies with a Minor in Mathematics at the University of Texas in Austin. Gayo’s time in the diaspora and her constant desire to go home has profoundly influenced her craft. Gayo was the Slam Champ of the UT Spitshine Poetry Slam team who won the 2014 College Unions Poetry Slam Invitational in Boulder Colorado. Gayo currently serves as a member of the Austin TheySpeak Youth Slam that will be competing in the 2014 Brave New Voices in Philadelphia.

Featured Poem:

How We Forget

Enlarge poem

We forgot we were worshipping beings,

We forgot you black Jesus

We forgot the king of kings

We forgot crowns do nothing or kings but put weight on their heads (and a target not their backs)

We forgot they put tax on our heads (and work on our backs)

We forgot Sodom and Gomorrah were levelled by brimstone and divine judgement,

But Mississippi is still standing,

We forgot burning cities,

We forgot cities are still burning

We forgot colors are seasonal,

And that this skin will fade too

I forgot my skin,

Or perhaps I just ran out of fucks to give.

We forgot some kid’s utopia,

Is a roof that won’t whisper in the night to the sleeping bodies below,

We forgot bodies sleep bellow,

We forgot bodies float, bodies hang,

We forgot Barbecue Postcards, Strange Fruit and hooded men.

I forgot rage.

And the pulse it leaves underneath my tongue

I forgot my tongue

And how it used to fit so perfectly in my purse next to my womanly duties.

I forgot my purse,

And my high heel stilts,

I forgot balancing is no longer an act,

When I am hiding behind imported hair,

A downloaded smile,

A painted on smile

A painted on face

And a voice trained to jump through hoos of flames to get you snaps and applause,

You don’t get it.

Shoot, you already forgot you woke up this morning,

You forgot to close the faucet when you were scrubbing that pot, that plate, that spoon or your left but cheek or whatever,

But you remember how that song goes right?

You remember how it went.

You remember you want your Grande Chai Latte with 3 Pump, Skim Milk

Lite Water, No Foam,

And served at 120 degrees.

You remember how spiritual of an experience it was

I forgot where I wrote this,

I forgot if I was just ranting,

Or if I forgot to close the faucet when I was scrubbing a pot or a plate ot a spoon or my tongue, or whatever

But I remember how this goes

I remember how spiritual of an experience this is

I forgot my heart is a burning city

Shoot, you already forgot , I forgot my tongue ,

Remember?

We forgot that some kids walk past their utopia every morning,

Suburban brinks stand in proclamation of what statistics say they will never truly attain.

We forgot some kids try so hard to forget tomorrow is coming,

We forgot there were kids in burning cities,

Smiling in barbecue postcards

Next to strange fruit and hooded men

Or perhaps we never had any fucks to give…

You know sometimes we forget how hard it is to remember.

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (23)
  • Pride (10)
  • Optimism (8)
  • Anger (13)
  • Delight (3)
  • Inspiration (25)
  • Reflection (26)
  • Captivation (11)
  • Peace (2)
  • Amusement (3)
  • Sorrow (8)
  • Vigour (3)
  • Hope (3)
  • Sadness (6)
  • Fear (3)
  • Jubilation (3)

Comments

  1. I’ve listened to her recite this over and over and it never gets old. The emotion and passion with which it is conveyed is phenomenal. Reading it now, every line seems perfectly phrased, so succinct and poignant. Very refreshing.

    Annette
  2. Nasahau mara ngapi nimesikiliza sahiri hili, Lakini kila wakati nasikia sauti mpya. This is profound. Asante sana Loyce

    Audreynalucy
  3. First time I listened to her and I was like “this chic from Compton or Brooklyn is awesome” only to find out anatoka Dar-es-Salaam. Now I write poems because I don’t wanna forget myself in my perspectives. Damn girl…

    Morpheus Cannus

Your email address will not be published.