Collecting Lost Letters
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Dear Her,
The way your lips form a smile is a love letter I can’t wait to read daily.
Sincerely,
A stranger in Brooklyn.Shane Romero (via kiqueperez)
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Binge Channel: Speak Up Contest: Spoken Word/Motivational
“The Poem Prayer For Her is by Brooklyn Poet Shane Romero. The poem is about a girl from Khartoum, Sudan and his amazement at her history and journey. The poem explains how before her, he knew nothing of her culture. It displays detailed imagery about her journey from Sudan to New York and how all he now knows and still doesn’t know is what has made her so beautiful.”
so, let’s answer the million-dollar question first: yes, the poem is about yours truly ahaha. but the actual important thing here is that Shane is my thugged-out neighbor and a great friend, and no one is ever tryna care about us little Sudani girls so I think this poem was a really gorgeous gesture. what I also think is that you should vote for him, and we’ll get three-for-a-dollar ice pops at our bodega and toast your kindness
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Dear Her,
Yesterday your picture read “No Caption.” I wonder if you now realize your beauty can only be found in the trophy case of Gods most valuable prayers.
Sincerely,
A stranger in Brooklyn. -
The Hip Hop days I miss.
I miss the days of when I was mad dedicated to hip hop. A real hip hop head. I will never get these days back. Shit will never be the same and this doesn’t have to deal with that bullshit of “hip hop is dead” or “real hip hop” arguments. Fuck outta here with all that. But, I deadass miss those days. I remember being mad young sneaking into venues or I used to make these really bullshit ass fake id’s to get into shows (I already look young as hell so imagine then and me trying to convince someone I am of age. Ohhh how the good days of security not caring are gone). I remember I used to eat, breathe, sleep hip hop. I had met this dude Joel when I was like ohhh I don’t know 11ish… I thought this dude was the coolest. He did it all…all 4 elements of hip hop. He used to work at this hip hop shop back in the day. I would always stop in after a skate sesh around the city. He would always be on the 1’s and 2’s diggin through crates gettin new records. He used to pick all these hip artist to introduce me to or educate me about the game at that moment. He’d put someone real fly on the tables then show books about graffiti or show me some new breakdance moves he learned. My favorite element of hip hop and aspect of it was graffiti. (I guess I have been a writer in all aspects my whole life) See this goes back to when I was real young. I remember like it was yesterday. I was coolin with my pops one day and I remember passing this wall that had been killed by these two writer’s “EMIT” and “Jive” it was like slow motion this day. There has always been graffiti all around me but this day for some reason it found a way to my heart. So after meeting joel and getting a more understanding of it I had to be it. I had to live it. I met this white kid named Mike. He wrote…he was super nice with it…he started teaching me the understanding of letters…then gradually introduced me to understanding taking that to the streets. I had to be about 16 the day I got the balls to tell my parents I was a writer. They didn’t like it but none the less understood it was something I had to do. I remember the first time taking them to see what I did. I remember how it felt like I was fighting iron giants when I was painting trains. That was where I got my thrill. Trains…the streets was always great…but trains…thats where all this started anyways…I have crazy stories from being in the lay ups…getting raided by cops, jumping trains to trains, hoping on moving trains, the whole sneaking into the lay up these were the golden years…also the years I was heavy into skateboarding…its funny how people don’t know how connected the skate scene and hip hop(all elements) are connected. I remember seeing hip hop artist I looked up to for mad cheap…I am talking about 5-10$ dollars…this lets you know how long ago that was. I remember I would go crazy if I didn’t listen hip hop within my day. My hands would shake(on all I love) if I didn’t paint. I understood graffiti was the streets newspaper we kept shit current. We kept the world aware. AND THENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN…hip hop didn’t give me passion anymore…this was about 18-19 maybe…I stopped listening to hip hop as whole…EVERYONE…and up until recent years I used to only listen to it now and then…I have got back to it being an every day thing but those days I spoke of…will never come back…I will never get them back…I never speak about hip hop…or what hip hop was to me…But…there it is…the days I miss…
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Letters sent to me about my video “Prayer For Her” PT. 2
Hello Shane,
I would like to first tell you that I absolutely admire your poetry. You are very talented… and your poem, Prayer to Her, gives me goosebumps every time I listen to it… just like the first time.
I also want to bring your attention to the power of your words, and social networks and technology of course, to reach the hearts of many people thousands of miles away from you. You have fans in Qatar now
Lastly, I was wondering where I can find a written/typed version of Prayer For Her.God Bless,
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Letters sent to me about my video “Prayer For Her” PT. 1
Hello Shane,
I didn’t wanna kill everyone with the notifications so I thought I’d just inbox this reply to you instead, ahha
Honestly you really did an amazing job. Not gonna lie, I even got emotional along the way because your words had hit close to home on my part, and it truly moved to not hear, but to also know that there is someone out there whom I have never even met, but still could understand the different walks of life that some of us have to take in this world and show appreciation to that the best way they know how.
I really just wanna say thank you.
Thank you for your talent, and being completely in love with what you do to have been able to express your thoughts the way you did.
You truly are an incredible individual in this world and I hope life treats you well.This is the 1st time I was introduced to your work, but it is defiantly not the last
I look forward to seeing all your other workSincerely,
Maya -
My Mind.
Lately I have had a million reasons to write. But I haven’t been finding myself actually writing them out. It’s almost the end of january its things like this that make me realize over and over how precious life is. Time is gone before you know it. I am learning….more so trying to learn the difference of grinding and grinding myself to death. Brittany reminded me that its not “grinding enough” that will lead to failure but burning myself out will. This is very true. I have done this many times before. I am drinking an amazing smoothie rather then hennessy while writing these thoughts for once. I still think about sky’re every second of the day. Every second I spent with this child was like watching an angle be unwrapped as a present on your birthday. I loved her greatly…everyone knew this. It felt good to see people from around the world tweeting about her or talking about her on social networks. 1. Because they never knew her. 2. I felt the world for once could see how much I actually loved someone. 3. Because the world was lucky to have her. There will be a time I will fill the emptiness in my chest. Not replace what she filled up but find a way to fill my emptiness. The only things I have found myself writing are my “Dear Her’s” people seem to find them amazing. I wonder how she feels about them. I always sign them “Sincerely, A stranger in Brooklyn” Because that is exactly what I am…a stranger. I often think about how many people know these are real…This past week I have understood what its like to have the pressure of the world hug you like a coat in winter…tight…never letting go…Who would have ever thought the praise of people could be partial creation of this. I was told I speak to much to page and not to people enough…That sounds crazy to me ha. I have found this feeling of joy walking through Bed Stuy or bus rides through the stuy listening to Curtis Mayfield. It makes me feel like I am walking through the streets next to my father when he was my age listening to the stories of what happened over the weekend. Why it does this…I dont know I dont care really either its an amazing feeling. This exact moment…I find writing to be the balance between peace and understanding what heaven looks like.
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A letter to the Sky(e)
I had laughed almost my whole day away
It was jan 1, 2013
I was compiling all of my previous years accomplishments
On the book shelf
Unpacking the ones set for this year
Until 10:11pm my phone rang
The ringtone had the sound of “you don’t want to pick up”
I still did anyway
Before the voice on the other end could make a sound
I could hear a coffin lower into the back of his throat
This is when I understood the meaning of
“Dead silence”
My brothers tongue became crippled
When trying to choose which words will destroy me easiest
The only thing left in the disaster of his vocal cords was
“Skye is dead”
What he said after that
Is all a blur
The walls of my apartment
Collapsed and swallowed every last smile
I felt as if someone
Punched a whole into my chest
Ripped a world out
Taped a block of c4 to my ribs
And set the timer for immediate destruction
My tears shot out like hallow points
My arms became a poor substitute
For the way yours would hug me
I found myself
Begging Jesus to remember his carpenter skills
To piece me whole again
I used to be your superhero
Now I am a cape-less man
Trying to save myself
Losing you was like watching a tsunami tackle heaven
I am a ticking time bomb of contradictions
One moment telling God I understand
He wanted you on display in his trophy case
And the next moment
Telling God I don’t understand
Why he needed you to remind him
What its like to be a child
I asked him to break my bones to dirt
Your coffin being barely bigger then a shoebox
Surely can be buried
Into the emptiness of my chest
This way I can cradle you forever
Skye
Who would have ever thought
you would wear your nickname so well
This is where we will now find you
Being heavens icon for happiness
Skipping lullabies across clouds
Teaching angels how to be dream catchers
Paper clipping cookie cutter prayers
Onto the edges of stars
The sky hasn’t looked the same
Since your wings took flight
Sunrises have forged your smile
To stretch across neighborhoods
Sunsets now look like your eyes
Right before bedtime
The blue that breaks through clouds
Is you being a child
And playing dress up
With your mothers makeup
Shooting stars are you being a 4 year old
Jumping from swing-sets
Rain drops now look like nursery rhymes
You dropped while hula hooping
You are painting this would young again
I continue to blink you back to existence
I see you in every child I catch myself
Staring at while on the train
My eardrum acts as a baseball glove
Catching every note
The music box in your throat would play
While I acted as a jungle gym
For you to climb on
I hope you cartwheel on our laughter
See there was always something
About the way you laughed
It balanced somewhere between
A prayer being sung
And the perfect way to say I love you
This is proof poetry is a brutal therapy
So I will get your favorite color crayola crayon
Write “Skyreé I LOVE YOU” as big as I can
Signed with “P.s You will always be my boo”
On a piece of paper
Then fold it into a paper boat
And let it sail
As a letter to the Sky(e)
