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Natasha T. Miller, performing at Icehouse in Minneapolis, MN.
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Button Poetry is committed to developing a coherent and effective system of production, distribution, promotion and fundraising for spoken word and performance poetry.
We seek to showcase the power and diversity of voices in our community. By encouraging and broadcasting the best and brightest performance poets of today, we hope to broaden poetry’s audience, to expand its reach and develop a greater level of cultural appreciation for the art form.
When black girls Who look like black men are murdered For not succumbing to the cat calls of Strangers for not going home with men Making promises Of their penises turning us back into Women for holding our girlfriend's hands Tighter when walking past a crowd full Of men who've had Way too much rejection to drink and is Looking for a fight and is looking For a dyke and is looking for a reason To paint the semen with our blood We are not remembered our deaths are so Unceremonious we die In the middle of the night at bus stops And dirty bathroom stalls we are not Remembered the feminists rarely start Movements in our names we don't even Leave stains joke a woman A black and a gay all walk into the same Bar In the same body punchline her life Punchline her death punch her lying Naked and beating in the alley of that Bar with the words burned into her skin using her Last breaths to ask god Why why our identity had to weigh so Much they don't remember us sakia we are Not woman enough not man enough they Want us to take off our skin Our hoodies our sexuality to be more Memorable it's hard enough
To get them to make noise for our sake Of guns how dare Us ask them to make noise for anyone Else for us The black men who they believe chose to Look this way to look Like we spent our lives practicing how To be targets black men Our targets we are just imitations not Even worthy of being considered Trash never wanted to be considered Trash so badly to at least be noticed we Know That you are not going to stop killing Us but at least having Enough decency to leave records of our Deaths when we are gone hang us on trees Near street lights give us names tell Our mothers that you are sorry for their Losses even if you are not just talk About us The black girls who look like black men Wearing a quiet death as a cologne even If you are going to kill us At least start a conversation after we Are gone Thank you thank you ice house thank you Button poetry
