My Dance, My Bad, My Deep

Originally posted 2/7/2013.

My dance, my bad, my deep…
gave a sorrow opening,
loosed it on
the gap within, and now:

ornery. Tantrum.
Layabout and cry. Going to victim
this whole long day;  go pick me some kudzu,
funeral bouquet for never-ending grief show.

Still, got rocker hips, roller hips, jazz
groin and lips and hips;
 joy must end up somewhere
when pushed from head and heart…thus,

I end up as one sad grinder.  End up bad.
Bad, sinking in deep but still, there’s
one way to set it off
and hold it back — 

so I’m off to music while still in the hole
to give my bad, my deep a resistance,
give it rhythm, a big mole digging in 
under the roots, charged up,

rubbling my dark village, quake cracking,
flipping dirt into the light.  When I, frightened, shake,
I still gotta dance my dance, my bad, my deep;
I dance, even if I dance sad,  because that’s my gotta happen.

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About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

One response to “My Dance, My Bad, My Deep

  • Eileen

    Oh, I love this!! It is such a vivid description of a perfect pity party…..making it all the way from pity to party….

    “go pick me some kudzu, funeral bouquet for never ending grief show.”

    “I dance, even if I dance sad, because that’s my gotta happen.”

    I just have to celebrate your ability to express the universal for us who are mute so we can finally at least say “AMEN!”

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