Justice Thompson
Justice Thompson is a 19-year-old college student from Kansas City, MO.
She is very passionate about the arts and is pursuing careers in both writing & acting. After continually competing in Louder Than A Bomb and other poetry competitions throughout her youth, Thompson has become attached to writing & the community that comes along with it.
Though Thompson loves to utilize various writing styles & topics in her poetry, all of her poems do have one commonality: truth. From societal strife to inner issues, Thompson writes openly & honestly in hopes of discovering those who see themselves & others in her poems.
Relax
When I was a little girl, I had oxymorons for dolls
Black Barbies with thin noses
Light skin
The beads of my ancestors’ braids rattle as they roll over in their graves every time a cream in a jar convinces a black girl that her coils are not enough
That oh so tempting chemical concoction whispers to her
It says
“Adapt
Obey
Relax
Heed to the demands of those who are so envious of your God gifted curls
Loosen your hair as they tighten the ropes of eurocentrism & self-loathing”
They see the true power interwoven between your locks that you have yet to know the magnificence of
I am much too familiar with the kicking of my kinks against my straightener
Every morning my straightener would burn any strand that dare resist its flat irons of oppression
My mother passed down the tradition of assimilation
Taught me how to style my hair with the gel of conformity
To be knowledgeable of myself is a threat
A black woman with a book is like a black woman with a bullet
Especially if that book tells stories of the intelligent civilizations from which her ancestors came
My people have a culture that’s taught by word of mouth
Escaped by maps embedded within cornrows because it was too dangerous to do otherwise
Brushed aside by historians who could care less whether or not you know the origin of your complexion
Of your vernacular
Of your hairstyle
What happens to a people when you tell them that their skin is too dark?
Hair too nappy?
Nose too big?
I look at my sister with tears in my eyes and weep as I realize she envies a nose bridge
Prays for strands of hair that are much too weak for a black girl with a soul so strong
Wishes for blue eyes from a white Jesus because she believes they’ll bring her true happiness
This is the time
The time we overcome all that is dragging us under
Resist those who stir the pot of bigotry and hatred
Preserve our culture like we have learned to preserve our curls under silk at night
This is the time
This is the time we don’t relax
See you next lifetime.
There was once was a cat
A cat who tiptoed softer than the pitter patter of the rain on my rooftop
A cat who who’d tread along the edge of the gutters, pawing & playing with death at every dawn
A cat who would fall and always land unscathed
There once was a cat
A cat curiosity & coercion got the best of
A cat luck latched onto and never let free
A cat I fed one time too many, so it knew it could call me home whenever it was convenient
There once was a cat
A cat who hurt me like it wanted to be a poem
A cat who lapped up my tears like breastmilk
A cat that outlived it’s nine long lives to come back into mine
Seventeen Years
Seventeen years
And I have realized solitude is my calling
I have been gifted an empty tune to nod my head to
A tune only capable of echoing dry & cracked whispers of loneliness
A tune forever dissonant
I have mastered the teachings of seclusion
Been mentored by the pages of the worn books atop my nightstand
Received lessons from the unseen
I have been cursed with ears that fall deaf upon cries of camaraderie
Dreadfully await my destiny of taking the shape of my one bedroom apartment
Before it has even been leased to me
I have become accustomed to stating I am a party of one
Let only the irony of the statement join me at my table
In life, my only company has been the lady who joins me as I sway to the song of the ceiling fan’s blades in my kitchen
But if you were to peek through the window
You would see a single girl
Harmonizing with the her refrigerator’s humming
Dancing with herself
When I Knew
In the beginning
There was an aroma of burnt popcorn & nail polish
Loud Katy Perry & random rom-com scenes
Glitter gloss covered lips whispering in my ear
Giggles echoing over the buzz of cicadas during midnight games of hide & seek
Beads of forgotten friendship bracelets scattered across the floor of her bedroom stabbing my bare feet
I remember
Late nights of slumber party “girl talk” circles
Full of mean girl gossip and boy crazy fantasies
A safe haven for hair braiding, nail painting and lusting after Justin Bieber
And, don’t get me wrong, I loved me some Justin Bieber
But he was no her
I remember
The way she went on and on about that boyfriend of hers
Who was always on and off and never there when he was needed
I remember
The way she questioned everything
The way she admired the birds, not because they were free to fly, but because they were free to love
It wasn’t always a love poem
But when it was
Every word she spoke to me
Felt as if she was dedicating her favorite song to the sorry soul I carry within this aching body
Sounded like vocal calligraphy
Beautiful, yet difficult to read
Every glance she gifted me with poured the God given beauty of light into me
A firework that burned blindingly bright for only a moment
Setting flame to the fuse of dynamite buried within me since the womb
And the scent of gunpowder lingers
The smoke forces the butterflies crammed inside of my intestine to escape from their cocoons
She pulled admiration from me like she pulled her hair into a ponytail at the break of dawn each day
The chestnut strands cascading down her pale shoulders that haven’t known sunlight since that crazy summer at Aunt Jenny’s beach house
In the corner of my mind
The dust blanketing my thoughts of her suffocate me
My feelings have festered like roaches in the walls of a dilapidated apartment
Crawling in and out of the taped up boxes of memories we own
I have no idea what will happen when I open them
faith
i spend time here
in the bath
the only place the splash of omnipotent voices whisper loudly enough to be sensed by mortal eardrums
i lay
stripped
vulnerable
honest
my head slips beneath the water
the suds cleanse me of yesterday
my palms find each other
and even if You aren’t visible, You are so
present
soaking up my pleas & pains
i know She can hear me now.
Pipe Dreams
by Justice Thompson
My best friend told me to dream big
He listened to every delusional desire
Innocent illusions of illuminated marquees hung high in a huge polluted city
I painted prayers of crowded sidewalks & obnoxious honks we’d learn to love
Forget the faces of those who stepped on our passions
Of those who now brag of us in the language of “I knew you when…”
We etched an eagerness into our hands, our minds, our souls
He designed a world where everyone knew our names, and those who didn’t soon would
A world where time is of no limit, and the sandy beaches are nothing but a mini road trip & a few good memories away
A world where the Big Apple & La La Land become one
My best friend told me to dream big
And I told him to dream bigger
ALL THAT AND A BAG OF CHIPS
After I got off school, I left for the gas station. I
Bumped into Lisa with the braids, and she asked
Could she tag-along ‘cause she “ain’t got nothin’ else to
Do”. I didn’t mind the company, I just needed something to
Eat. We’re walking, talking about Bobby & how they’re in a
Fight again ‘cause he don’t never compliment her no more, tellin’ me how she ain’t gotta worry though ‘cause the
Gas station men got
Her. Started saying,
“If he ain’t got me, I know they do. They always got somethin’ to say when I walk through.” Coming up on the store she
Jumps in front of me as she sashays up the sidewalk,
Keeping eye contact with the two
Loitering silhouettes of
MIller Lite and must throwin’ “Hey, beautiful lady”s our way
On the outside, she seemed unmoved, but I know inside she was beamin’. If them
Niggas wasn’t gon give her self-assurance, who would?
Or who was gon’ tell her mama she was caught up with some corner store bums? Lisa wasn’t
Pickin’ battles, just always gettin’ greasy men fired up & baggin’ boys that were never
Quite worth it, and she
Realized that too late in the game to change. All I can
Say is I tried my best. I
Took my chips & my dignity out the store, and grabbed Lisa
Under her arm. The moment for
Validation was over:
We both left with what we came for.
‘Xcept I know Lisa went back there sometimes. No one can ease that
Yearning. No man has anything but flimsy ass band-aids for them
Zigzags cracking her heart.
How to Shut the World Out
Step one to shutting the world out: Build a castle
Step two: Hope to God you’re a natural at heavy construction, so then communication with the outside world is really no longer necessary
Plate your mosaic castle windows with familiar faces of your fragmented past
Position them so they look down on you as they once did when they were constants in your life
Put up cement barriers so high the Great Wall of China would be envious
A barricade of bricks, bruises, and briskness
Design the main hall’s ceilings low, so the “elephant in the room” that has been your shadow for eternity will finally concuss itself
Leaving you truly
Alone
Let only songs that lack lyrics fill the rooms of your new palace
There’s no need for some singer to remind you how much your blissful, self-imposed loneliness suffocates you
Remember to forsake the flimsy picture frames that once bore the fond feelings you must leave outside the castle walls
You must forget
Step three:
Throw a party to forget
A celebration of seclusion
Invite no one
Swallow red wine from Swarovski crystalline glasses
Line the door jambs of every bedroom with white ribbon
Air helium balloons and let them hug the empty spaces of your ceiling
Dine on a magnificent feast
Stuff your face with crème brûlée
Sit the artwork you’ve stolen from the Louvre onto your balcony, so they have the best view your prolific garden
Now your only friends live on canvases
The only company you need is Ingres’ classical “Grande Odalisque”
Because the concubine can’t communicate
Step four:
Talk into the void
Talk to yourself
Talk with your mouth full, crumbs dribbling onto the table
The only people to witness such a sight are Mona Lisa & St. John the Baptist
And what are they to do about it? Be mad?
Step five:
Create a moat surrounding your castle
Brimmed with alligators & manta rays & that one animal you saw that one time your mother brought you to the zoo for your tenth birthday
Leave a drawbridge available for any being that cares enough to cross the waters and break in
Finally,
Encrust the upholstery of your throne with iridescent stones & emeralds
Sit down
Rest in the thick solitude you’ve earned for yourself