the louderARTS Project

Grisel

Grisel is a writer living in Jersey City, or as she prefers to call it, "Chill Town" (an old nickname given to the city by 1940's gangsters). She moved to the East Coast three years ago and quickly became a part of Manhattan's poetry, writer and artist communities. She began to read her poetry throughout NYC, and work such as Naaman's Song, POP, and Cubanita (After Hours Press, 2002), quickly earned her a reputation for having beat and rhythm driven poetry, which attacks social norms ruthlessly. Ten months later she was asked to host her own series in West Harlem. From October 2000, to December 2001, she managed and hosted The New Heights Poetry Series at Café Largo. This project gave birth to two others, including the Blue Heights Writer's Series at Bluestockings Bookstore, the only women's bookstore in New York, at the time. This monthly series, which ran for over a year, focused on women of color who are poets, singer/songwriters, and fiction and non-fiction authors. The culminating series was Extreme Heights, "an artist's playground." Every month, for six months, Extreme Heights joined musicians, writers of all genres, and visual artists, in improvisational and audience-interactive creation, at SoHa Lounge in Harlem.

Grisel was born and raised in the Logan Square neighborhood of Chicago, Illinois. Her time as a teenager was spent commuting to Hyde Park's Kenwood Academy, where she was an awarded fine artist, and learning from Chicago artists in clubs in Pilsen, Wicker Park and Bucktown. As an adult, she earned a B.A. in journalism and established herself as a journalist at Extra Bilingual Community Newspapers. She earned her master of education degree from The University of Illinois at Chicago, where she taught language arts and research writing to high school students.

Grisel is also a singer/songwriter, mainly performing with the musical ensemble, Juxtapose. She is a member of Urban Renaissance Productions and Urban Expressionists Lab, both artist collectives that produce a variety of art events. Her artwork has been displayed throughout New York City and New Jersey as part of the "Art-O-Mat" traveling art exhibit, and she continues to be a featured performer at venues such as The Nuyorican Poets Café, The Bowery Poetry Club, The Art House in New Jersey, and many others. Grisel continues her work at merging music, poetry and art, while at the same time inspiring her students to do the same as an English professor at Hudson County Community College in Jersey City.

dsegotism@yahoo.com
groups.yahoo.com/group/gpwriters




POP!

Deep within my own world thoughts
And feeling so beautiful
Listening to AC/DC
Strolling and cajoling
And feeling one with the world
And at two with
God and me

At the Axel Roller Rink
The wheels were spinning, were spinning
Breeze hitting our faces tasted of winning, of winning
But with all the spinning 'round
The dizziness was bound
To make us come down, down

Those kids were bigger
They saw my hair and called me nigger

And it hit me
And it crushed me
And like a train on a bullet on the tracks
I went POP!

Deep within a natural crush
And feeling so vulnerable
Hanging off every word he'd say
Laughing and crashing
On the shores of the afternoon
Noticing his expressions change

Underneath the dusk drenched
Pine trees words were spinning, were spinning
His smile before my face tasted of winning, of winning
But with all the spinning 'round
The dizziness was bound
To make us come down, down

White skin pulled him back
Question: Do you like me?
Answer: You're black.

And it hit me
And it crushed me
And like a train on a bullet on the tracks
I went POP!

Deep within my alienation
Feeling so useable
Shunning X-Ray days for smoky nights
Groping and hoping
That all of the white boy sex
Would make my wrong past turn right

Our mouths, our legs, our hands
Our fragile minds were spinning, were spinning
Every lonely conquest tasted of winning, of winning
But with all the spinning 'round
The dizziness was bound
To make us come down, down

Sex my hardest drug
I was shutting out my love

And it hit me
And it crushed me
And like a train on a bullet on the tracks
I went POP!
Like a train on a bullet on the tracks
I went POP!

I am a bullet
But I am the train and the tracks
I am the bullet
And I am the train and the tracks
And the bullet -- POP!
And the bullet -- POP!
I am the train and the tracks
I am the train and the tracks
And the bullet
POP!



© Grisel



. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .