Claim To Fame: Why I Breathe Fire

Reflection:

The same thing I am praised for, is the same thing people try to snatch me for—this thing I do with these 26 letters.

In the face of abject crazy which is the current world, I would be remiss in my duties as a writer not to speak or record it. When I decided to lean into writing, being a writer as a career, I knew what I was getting into—what it would cost, and what I aimed to do in it.

This is the thing I love, communication and the art of word play. It’s what I do. It’s legit what I do. And for the love of it, I happen to write down my imagination to sell to people. I keep pens on hand, my desk is covered in papers and my laptops are always running out of space.

This, indeed, is my sweet spot.

Love and blessings,

JBHarris

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The Burden of The Pen: Say Something

There is a power in saying, “I am a writer.”

In the right circumstances, that title is

The Burden Of The Pen: Say Anything

I have been at the ‘writing thing’ professionally for about 8 years now. And when I was in my last serious relationship, he had the habit of telling me “Babe, you gotta say something about this!” I will give him this credit: he forever was telling me that I could write. For that, I am grateful.

Yet, that is the most powerful thing of this mystical art. You have the command of an alphabet, of a language (one or more if you are one of the cool kids! Shouts to the multilingual writers!), with the ability to say anything. From the dynamic to the controversial, to the hot takes or cold, hard facts–you have the ability to say everything you see to say.

So…say it. Write it down. Publish it. Share it.

But, say it–because it just might need to be said.

The Burden of The Pen-Overview

The thing that is interesting about being a writer–and not even a ‘famous’ writer!–is there is always this desire to chime in on the world around you.

And when people know you write, that desire increases ten-fold!

I call this: The Burden Of The Pen.

The Burden Of The Pen.

Noun. The desire to write about all that you see which may be pertinent or pervasive to culture, policy or to add to greater conversations.

-coined by JBHarris, March 2022

This mini-series will reflect on this desire to say everything, when to say anything, and how dangerous it is to say nothing.

May 9: Say Anything

May 16: Say Something

May 23: I Don’t Know What to Say

May 30: Here Is What I Have To Say

30 DAYS OF JAYE-2022 FINAL THOUGHTS

This collection of poetry for this particular April 2022 was personal and freeing. As these pieces were published here, I did 30 days of poetry on TikTok as well (look for the playlist 30 Days of Jaye 2022). This was needed and necessary.

This year I have become the personification of this quote:

“I have so completely given over to the talent, that I cannot bare to doubt its power.”

-JBHarris, April 2022

There were ideas that bubbled up this month, poems written in the matter of hours, and books of poetry found on my phone.

Yes, my phone.

This month was a reminder to do what Baldwin said: do my work. My job as a writer, as a keeper of space, is to fill that space. My job is to keep going, keep creating, keep sharpening the weapons of my warfare.

There is much left to do, much more to say, and there is work indeed to do.

30 DAYS OF JAYE-DAY 30: The Hymn of Black Like Me

When they see us

they want to be us

knowing that only we can be us!

from the swivel of hip

to haircuts

to the box braids

to the colors that

inhabit our skin

are melanin and

I hear that springs forth

as halos from the top of our heads?

only we can be us

because we got us

cause we came from us

the ancestors are

about the future at

our forward and

our eyes are still yet

watching God from

the belly of ships

to the White House

on the front steps—-

we are indeed everywhere!

there was no space

for blackness cannot touch!

and it is irredeemable

from whiteness,

but distinct from whiteness

yet black as where the unnecessary

Thinks is where whiteness

goes to die there—

There is no peace

of my blackness as

they wipe your skin

and have it and not

be touched and transform

The I am straight

with no I am straight

with no pay with

no chase a clear without

apology and I staying

as a non-binary

with me being necessary

the we that got us

is the way they got me

in the way that is

inside of me takes care

of all enemies when

the ancestor said as

we were taken from Shores

I am we

the I In the I AM

with was identity

the we was always their company

we are never by ourselves.

-JBHarris, March 2022

30 DAYS OF JAYE-DAY 29: Grand Rising

We can trace

The fall of any

Kingdom to

Once held together

By love—

Both its power

It’s devotion,

And secrets

The moment

The queen rose,

Seeing the king

Not as comfort

——but as enemy.

Determined to free

Herself from what

Was love

Now made trap

By the bed made

By selfishness,

Indifference and

Apathy which try

To maintain holds

Over hearts and

Minds through the

Joining of body

With the familiar

Lift and lilt of

Love making which

Allows body and

Mind to separate

So both don’t have

To endure the affliction

Of the lie that is

This I love you

At the same time.

For freedom, she must choose violence.

For freedom, she must choose herself.

JBHarris, May 2021

30 DAYS OF JAYE-DAY 26: Kingdom Come

I no longer watch for he

Who claimed to

Watch over me.

Queens don’t have

Enough hours in their

days—

and the nights have too many.

In the absence of

A King, there is the always

the waiting—

waiting for him

on wings or stallion

or slow moving steed

to come to look up,

Seeing you beautiful

and pristine, preserved

in the tower by which

the love you gave to him

imprisons you—

for belonging to one

blind in one eye,

chasing the cares of

the world, with

your heart

in his back pocket.

see that you

were waiting

the whole time

Through tide and sunset

and moonlight

you waited and waited

because queens’ days

have not enough hours

in their days

and their nights

have too many.

In the waiting, you age.

You want.

You break silently.

Dying cut by cut.

Dying by unanswered messages,

missed calls,

cancelled visits and

always the promise of

together will happen

through the lips that lie

and still say trust me

because queens have not

Enough hours in their days

and their nights

have too many.

I have taken myself

from the window,

away from the

Widows walk…

I no longer wait

on the sun neither

do I cry or the moon

and her beams

To comfort me.

I’m alone now.

building my own kingdom

because queens don’t have

Enough hours in their days

and their nights have too many.

In order to rule,

I must master myself first.

My soul was never in his pocket

Truth and love

Never marrying

To the peace

Granted through

Commitment, wedded

Through time and space

my heart was never his

so my love was always mine

-JBHarris, May 2021