You Gotta Have Game

Album cover image featuring Kimmika Williams-Witherspoon, a Black woman with in a black sleeveless top, and the title "you gotta have game"

You Gotta Have Game

This part of the journey with friends and loved ones is proof positive, that even though we may feel fragile sometimes and must fight our many myriad number of challenges, ills and even fatalities, we who continue to move forward, fight, struggle—holding on and never giving up, we don’t just survive—No, instead, with the right frame of mind, we thrive…because of love, joy, pleasure and our own happiness found! Pain is transitory… fleeting. Like the songwriter wrote: “Trouble don’t last always.” Embrace the moments that have made us who we are.

Life is a journey—not just a trip with destinations and an expiration date! Traveling is an action AND a process. These are the pieces that fill my heart and remind me to greet each day glad to be alive. It’s taken a whole lot of years; but I’m learning to love myself and those around me with verve! My hope/poem/whisper/prayer to you too…You gotta have game!

--Kimmika L. H. Williams-Witherspoon

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Poetic Text

Why?

To change the world.
To fortify,
shield,
protect my heart—
spirit
self
soul.
As balm when I am
beaten,
battered,
broken.
To armor &
protect
my dreams of
hope,
harbor &
happy-ever-after.
Painfully, sometimes, but
plainly passionate,
to insulate from the cold.
Vent vapors of exasperation—
when vexed!
Full of “can’t take it no more”
Screams of rage,
anger
or disgust.
Must
let off steam
when I am worn-weary,
belabored,
bruised.
Like Zora’s Tell My Horse,
made accountable.
to ancestors, spirits,
nightmares…dreams.
As conduit,
whispering thought
through flesh,
to make inspiration
active!
To keep the secrets—charged.
Commemorate
the sages & their service.
Chronicle the knowledge.
& the learned-living,
like Langston’s “Jesse B. Simple”,
in the average, ordinary, every
Days of our lives,
while controlling the
torrent
& the terrors that others
might want to heap
upon me.
Griot, Jelli,
“oral prescription”.
You see,
Really…
it’s just simply
to breath—
calm,
easy,
every day.
Voiced.
Heard.
Not silenced;
nor invisible;
or giving in.
“Down”, sometimes
But you best believe,
never “out”…
(not yet).
Every single time…
keep getting up!
Smiling,
Crying,
trying
& still fighting!
Distilling image,
Memory,
Experience— her story…
history….
This…
Is why I write.

© 2023. Kimmika L. H. Williams-Witherspoon

Crack of Morning

I am crack of morning
Light in the shadow of dark
Julie Andrews, “my Favorite Things
Coupled with Coltrane’s
Rift on the same
Smells of Mommy’s fresh
Baked bread from oven
& the promise of dawn’s
Early light

I am….late night musings
On Gwen Brooks, Audre Lorde
With Mya and Sonia
In toe
Grand Marnier, peas & rice and Conche
Salad
Zayn’s kisses, Amaan’s
Soft just-born new
Love and holidays and
Birthday
New signature poem
With each passing year

I am mother
Daughter, sister
Cousin, friend
Grandmother
Scholar
Poet
Professor
I am
I am
I am
I am keeper of tradition
Managing mirth
Mayhem and
Holding back disaster
I am
Warrior words.

© 2023. Kimmika L. H. Williams-Witherspoon

I Like

I like
Warm sun
Soft rain
Puppies
Holidays
Hallmark cards
Chocolate
Ice cream
Suits, hats
Family dinners
Bar B Que
Grand babies
Daughters,
Son
God
& you.

© 2023. Kimmika L. H. Williams-Witherspoon

Love is...

Love is…
Waking up
Cocooned
In you
Can’t wait
To start the day
Speak your name\share
My dream
Hear the same
From you
Holding hands
In the car
In the street
In the store
Restaurants
Full of good food
Wine
& us
Chattering
A mile a minute
Or slow and
Easy—
Depending on the place
or the pace
or the state
or the date
comfort
home
or on the go
this part of the journey
beside you.
Love is….

© 2023 Kimmika L. H. Williams-Witherspoon

Fragile

Some
No matter the age
Or stage
In life
Having hearts
Broken
Open
Torn apart
Torn up
Torn asunder
Damaged
Yet put back together
Fragile
Temporal
Mortal
Earthly
Time-binded
Memory reminding
The heart
Heals
Mends
Reconstitutes
Revives
Begins to beat
Again
Slowly
Cautiously
fearlessness
grows
with each new someone
wanting to be whole again
with each new
some one…
maybe

© 2023. Kimmika L. H. Williams-Witherspoon

Making Yum Yum

Making yum yum wrestling covers, sheets, pillows to the floor
Fingers touch, tickle, probe, caress examine each bulge, bump or bone
Terrain taunt and tempting mine to thine, then
Taking turns topsy-turvy flesh and sweat
Intermingled—moans in mouths muffled
Breath-labored, heart racing, every
Nerve fired on end
Currents previously capped
Flood gates
Tsunami
Torrent waves
Ecstasy and pleasure
Mine to your earthquake
Molten hot lava volcanic eruption
Stars and colors and crickets march
Holding on to precipice heights ride tussled
For dear life clinging to love’s right/rite
When we make yum yum, universes collide both in
& outside, while tectonic plates shift from our love

© 2023. Kimmika L. H. Williams-Witherspoon

20/20

Visual acuity, troublesome.
Problematic,
Wanting clearness…
Sharpness…
Not perfect, But,
Daring,
Gleaming
Peering—
Sharper still.

Turning point…
A decade made new.
Down-under
up in flames.
Kuala and Kangaroo
No longer cute
Nor cuddly—‘stead
Sadly Singed.
Bushfires &
the world’s lens
focuses
on their charred remains.
Wildfires burning
‘cross continents.

Amidst the Queen’s eye
 & tabloids sensational,
British blue-Blood
boils
From lies told—
Princess fairy tales
Incongruent
With snide remarks ‘bout
N***ers in the wood pile.
Trying to raise
a child,
Prince Harry and Meghan
Step down
No longer wanting to be royal.

Basketball legend
Crashes into heaven.
Kobe Bryant
With daughter Gianna
headfirst
& helicopter full—
teammates & family
Slam into a mountain
top
Obscured by fog
& too much wealth
To simply drive to the game
Like every other
daughter’s father.
Fans & friends
Unclog tear wells
Of mourning & sorrow,
Cry them a river.
And on other mornings…
Virus
Crosses water.
A failed impeachment.
Harvey Weinstein
Convicted.
#metoo victims
Vindicated.
Pandemic-
Tricked,
Essential workers
Picket
For N95 masks
& gear
Pushing through a year
(that, seemingly,
just keeps on giving)
Pain & anguish
Hurt & fear—
Desperately trying to hold on to
here
& now,
But, wow,
still feeling like we’ve all just
Twisted out of control
& landed in Dorothy’s Oz.

COVID-crushed
 & crashed--
a stock market
Rocked
By coronavirus
& Stay-at-home
Quarantine
Locks Americans
In their own skin—
The skin they were born in
& hate
A change.

No ships
Or interstate commerce
Allowed to dock;
America’s
Industry &
Business plummets…
smashes to a halt.
While the salt of the earth
At the core
(so much more
Co-morbidities between them)
Wheeze on ventilators
Not new, yet
all
Too few
to treat them.

Another 911 call—
Ahmad Abarry…
Breona Taylor…
A police officer
kneels
On the neck of George Floyd—
Another Black or Brown body
Down
& the world is turned ‘round,
Topsy-turvy—
Upside down
To shed light—
protests,
Riots & pandemic.
Enough
Is enough!
Cities go up in flames
As rage
Makes fire
Polemic.

Killer hornets let loose.
Explosions in Beirut.
Joe Biden
picks
Kamala Harris.
Chadwick Boseman
Dies at 43,
Finally cancer-free
& Black Panther
ascends with the ancestors
in a renewed pride--rising
leaving a world in mourning,
having made us all a friend.

And then,
the West Coast burns
 & the world learns
That Ruth Ginsberg is dead.
Election-mania
Fed
By white supremacy’s dreaded Red
& Agent Orange
Even zanier.
Critical Red States
Turn to Blue States
While half the nation
Hates—
Democracy on the ballot—
& who would suppose,
As Malcolm would say:
“The ballot or the bullet”[1]
as urban Blacks
Come out in droves
to vote.

‘Cross the country
each
township, borough
& section
Makes selection—
More votes
Than any other election
Since the founding
Of then,
Each thirteen states.

Days
& dazed,
We hold our breathe
& the whole, wide
world
watches.
Humanity win.
Evil chokes…
But suddenly,
There’s hope
In the world
 Again.
(Or is it,
Just the calm before the storm.)

Mind’s eye
 Reminded
Big-picture truism.
Much more than
Hindsight—
Eyesight is pivotal.
Betwixt
& between
Sankofa—
Looking back—
To Hopeful forward-looking…
Eyes wide open
Woke!
We’ve got to stay
focused!
From vision clouded
To Clearing—
older,
Greying,
Hoping & believing;
But still,
Seeing
20/20.

© 2023. Kimmika L. H. Williams-Witherspoon

Thank you: To the Heroes and Sheroes Working Amongst Us

for Christopher David Fitzgerald

We don’t say “thank you”
Nearly enough
For the first responders
Twenty years then
Running into Twin Towers tall
Trying to save
As many as they can
Before,
In an instant,
citadels fall
five thousand gone
burying
them all—
Rubble,
Mangled steel,
Blood & bone
Entombed
In stone.

Firefighters—
Men and women
We seldom
Know their names
Who run
in
To Burning flames—
Forests,
Houses
Homes—
Buildings
on
FIRE—
On purpose!
No parade for them
We call
When things get
Most dire
To save the day…

Doctors and nurses
Dieticians
Housekeeping
Grounds-keepers,
Morticians
On the front line
All the time
Even through
Pandemic—
Endemic
Whether
exclusive
Or widespread.
Lest we forget,
Not so long ago,
Some gave their lives
Not enough N95’s
Trying to help others
Survive,
in homes for the aged,
prison facilities,
 installations
& hospital beds
Too Close
to death’s door.

Where would we be
When strapped into seat
On that 747
Headed off the runway
Towards skies heaven
or crossing
for hours
mountain
range, cities,
oceans
to turbulent motions
if the air traffic
controller
wasn’t there
where
we need them to be
\watching over all of us f
rom the tower.

And, during Covid 19,
Isolated and quarantined
Didn’t we all learn
How much we depended
On the transport team—
Mailman
Postal worker,
UPS
Even
The Amazon van man
Grew to seem
Welcome relief—
welcome friend!

To the legislators—
On both sides of the aisle
Who agitate
& hopefully,
Advocate
Challenging us
All the while
As citizenry
To be the best
We can be
& uphold
democracy.

Civil servants
Local, federal, state,
The teachers
Who teach our child,
Rangers,
Military personnel
All the public sector workers
Near as I can tell—
Them they once called:
“Essential workers”
EMT’s
Or the ambulance
driver
Disrupting our drive
Always
so inconvenient
Till we need it!

Food service
Hospitality,
The ticket-taker
On the train
Elevated line
Subway
Or bus
Late or on time.
Even if we fuss
With tow truck driver
mechanics
Or meter maid
Can’t be swayed
In denial
These are the workers—
With tool & trade
Who give us aid.
From pharmacy
To retail—
Plumbers,
Electricians,
Librarians,
Blue-collar
 Stocking aisles
To spirit-healing
Ministry &
missions—
Reverend, rabbi, priests.
Imams
Daily taxing
their spirits
To help save ours—

The service men,
Enlisted
Or veteran,
The men and women
With verve
That venture
Blood & sinew
And nerve.
That can
& do serve

To the Police officers,
Like:
Christopher David Fitzgerald.
Pledged to protect and serve
Who daily risk
life and limb—
In the service of
Family
Community
& kin—
The service we , sometimes,
take for granted
Don’t wait
Till it’s too late!

We don’t say “thank you”
Nearly enough
It ain’t easy to be kind.
It ain’t easy to be thine!
For every he and she
for all of
them/us/we
who wake up every morning
working hard to
live right, do right, be right—
take care of
business,
children
family—
to do our best
working,
despite
when challenges
erupt
a-plenty—
then at night—
in want of rest
as toll for passing
life’s every test.
To sleep
& then,
repeat.

We don’t say “thank you”
Nearly enough!
Super-heroes
Ain’t just
On the TV screen.
Heroes
& Sheroes
Presenting
Like everyday
Women and men.
Where would we be
Without them.

© 2023. Kimmika L. H. Williams-Witherspoon

Coming Back into Myself (Die a Little Bit)

Everyday
laughter
Begins to grow
& bloom
Rooted deep from
Snicker
To rambunctious
Guffaw
Love and mirth
Slowly returning
Coming back again.
Restaurants
& good food
No longer
Quite as melancholy
As it once was
Salty sounds of
Jazz
No longer a trigger
Warning—
Not so much
To have to have tissue near.
Private beach days
May even
show up
in a future near
everyday
heart
& body merely
Dies a little bit
Yields
Gives way
Rather than leads
(or leaves)
To possibility
Potential
Never no more
Without you.

© 2023. Kimmika L. H. Williams-Witherspoon

Fragile Bag of Blood and Bones

For Latanya

Some teach us
to run till we’re out of breath
Persevere
Struggle through
Circumvent
Mole hill to mountains of
Challenges
& tribulations;
Healing or hurts;
Aid or injury.
Joys
& pains in
“life-is-worth-living's”
Name.
Lest we forget.
No time to regret
Payment towards the debt
That we all must pay,
Some,
Beseech us, to
Set our standards high
Then,
To set goals even higher to
Leap
From one
Milestone to the next
Soar,
Falter--
Pause for a few
(If we must)
Catch our breath, then
Step out
on faith
Get up and run till the wind
Lifts...
Rises...
Airy and buoyant
On the wings of light
& possibility to
Traverse
canyons of
Chaos,
catastrophe
& crisis
To clear the hurdle
Vault
Surmount—
Reaching
& besting
Each and every challenge
Testing our resolve
to Sail some more.
Some preach without words
Rather model
In method and manner
How to spring,
Bound,
Bounce
Leap over,
Jump across,
Leap-frog
& dance
Head back
Arms flung out-stretched
Daring to
Defy the odds
Try--
‘though flawed—
no matter what;
Smiling and laughing
(when we can).
Holding back tears
(sometimes. for years)
When we can’t,
Yet,
Never stopping
Till fall becomes dance
From forward motion
& sheer movement
onward!
Like the lightening bolt of Oya
Reminding us to use our time
Wisely,
Icarus from the myths
or Thecla of the Lost Books[2],
Some teach us,
Beseech us,
Preach us,
By example,
To never stop reaching
For the sun/son
The definition of living
With dignity while dying
On our way to see
The face of God.

© 2023. Kimmika L. H. Williams-Witherspoon

Kerplunk!

Sidewalks…
Before skinned knees hit,
Hard-playing or
Playing hard in
Urban school yards
Of memory.
Cinder blocks
Rough and bulky,
Heavy-lift,
Stacked
Building fortresses
Or pilons to dreams
Till they fall

Skin opens
like swiss cheese—
Alley-grater
In the back
On tiny bits of broken glass
Playing Dodge ball,
Red light/Green light—
You’re “It”…
How many times when we’re young
Do we fall,
Stumble
plummet
Jump up
Laughing
(Or crying)
Then try again.

The result
Road Rash
What the motorcycle boys call it
When,
By chance,
falling off The Harley.
The hard surface of life be,
both,
Impetus
& the place you hit.

The splinters of life
When sliding across the wooden bleachers.
Hard gymnasium
Falling off the trampoline.
Plunging head first
Growing to be grown
Bad choices
Poor decisions
Adulting
Marrying young.

Slapped unconscious…
Bed, mat, carpet or floor
When out of
Anger-cum-determination
Lifting self
Dare to keep on moving
forward.

Hydroplaning in the rain
Broken and tearful
From a husband’s indiscretion
Pregnant
& Rushing
to get the kids to school…
In the hard surface of life
Never giving up
becomes the rule
Shattering
crashed windshield—
No deal with the devil
Instead
Pleading with the Almighty…
“please God, not now.”
Unborn son dealt the death blow
Head on collision with a dump truck
Loosing baby boy in the deal.

Can’t help but feel
The hard surface of life—
Knocked down!
Struggle…
To Stand up.
Knocked down again…
Stand back up again.
Knocked down
Again and again—
STAND BACK UP!

Pushing “the bear”
Off trolly tracks
In West Philly
Flat tire
Stitched wound
Come
Undone
Young and mothering alone
tears trickle
Fresh blood stains—
The hard surface of life
Again and again
Parents
make transition
partnerships
shredded upon the rocks
faith and hope
held to
Dreams—
Some accomplished
Others altered
Or blown away
While
Time’s ticking
Consistently reminds us.
The hard surface of life
Again and again…
Disappointment
Hardship
Death
Graveyards
Age—
What kind of player
Must we be
If all the world’s a stage?
Well…
No matter how many times
Living
Takes a turn…
Shit hits the fan…
Scrapper hits the canvas…
Lesson learned.
When you encounter
The Hard surface of life—
I beseech you,
You gotta have game!

© 2023. Kimmika L. H. Williams-Witherspoon

Performers

Kimmika Williams-Witherspoon, PhD (Cultural Anthropology), M.A. (Anthropology), MFA (Theater), Graduate Certificate (Women’s Studies), B.A. (Journalism); is a Full Professor of Urban Theater and Community Engagement in the Theater Department at Temple University and immediate Past-President of the Temple University Faculty Senate. The recipient of the 2021, Provost’s Arts grant, 2020 Stauffer Faculty Service Award, Principle PI for the 2018-19 $50,000. Lumina foundations Fund for Racial Justice and Equity. 2013 The Miriam Maat Ka Re Award for scholarship; the 2013 Associate Provosts for the Arts Grant ($1000 ); the KCACTF Distinguished Playwriting Award; the 2008 $50,000. Research and Creative Seed Grant Co-recipient, 2003 Provost’s Arts Commission Grant ($5,000); the 2001 Independence Foundation Theater Communications Group Grant, the 2000 winner of the PEW Charitable Trust $50,000 fellowship in scriptwriting, and the 1999, winner of the DaimlerChrysler “Spirit of the Word” National Poetry Competition (Seattle). Williams-Witherspoon has also been the recipient of a host of other awards and honors, including: the DaimlerChrysler Regional Poetry Contest (Philadelphia), the 1996, Lila Wallace Creative Arts Fellowship with the American Antiquarian Society and a twotime returning playwright with the Minneapolis Playwrights’ Center and Pew Charitable Trusts Playwrights Exchange.

The author of Through Smiles and Tears: The History of African American Theater (From Kemet to the Americas) (Lambert Academic Publishing, 2011); The Secret Messages in African American Theater: Hidden Meaning Embedded in Public Discourse” (Edwin Mellen Publishing, 2006) Williams was, at one time, Arts Producer for public radio, WXPN-88.5, reporter and columnist with the Philadelphia Tribune and television editor for the Chicago-based “Maceba Affairs Media Review Magazine. As a journalist, Williams’ articles and essays have appeared in Praxis; the “Hammer” Journal, “Dialogue”, the Philadelphia REAL NEWS, POETS & WRITERS Magazine, THE OTHER SIDE, the New York GUARDIAN NEWSWEEKLY, the DAILY MUSE, BLACK AMERICA MAGAZINE, PHILLY BEAT, HIGH PERFORMANCE MAGAZINE and the PHILADELPHIA DAILY NEWS. In that capacity as a journalist, in 1986, she received the Outstanding Journalism Award from the Philadelphia Veterans Administration.

As an actress, appearing in over 24 productions, her stage credits include, SHOT!, (for which she is also the playwright); “Damn Yankees”; “No Mo’ Blues”; “Shakin the Mess Outta Misery”, “From Brillo Pads To Feminine Pads: Raw Abrasives”, “A Product of Pop Culture and Pissed”, “Nappy Truth”, “Common Folk”, “A CHAINED FOOT STUMBLING ON A NEW WORLD”, “GUMBO”, “WE THE PEOPLE”,”IZZY”,”THE BLACK DIAMOND” and “WHERE WERE YOU IN ‘65”.

As a playwright, Williams-Witherspoon has had 34 productions of her work, including Wrestlin’ ‘Rona (2022), From Safe to Brave (2020; 2019), “Count Down to Boom” (2014 and 2013); La Baker: Le Femme (2011); “SHOT!” (looking at violence in North Philadelphia which received the Kennedy Center American College Theater Festival; Distinguished Achievement Award for Playwriting, Co-Conception and Performance in 2010); “Survival Strategies: A Tale of Faith (First World Theatre) for which she won the PEW); “From Brillo Pads To Feminine Pads: Raw Abrasives” (Women’s Festival/Painted Bride), “Dog Days: The Legend of O.V. Catto” (Venture Theater),”By What Price: Unity” and “Nappy Truths” (Penumbra Theater, Saint Paul, Minn.). She has had 14 play readings, performed in 8 one-woman shows, dramaturgy for 8 plays, and directed 21.

Williams-Witherspoon is a recipient of numerous Residency, Teaching and Community Service Awards, including citations from City Council, The Goode Admin., the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom and the key to the city of Scranton, Pennsylvania by Mayor James P. Connors in 1992. A contributing poet to 50 anthologies, Williams-Witherspoon has published 11 books of poetry, 9 book chapters, 10 journal articles, 2 books on African American Theater, published 20 articles in Newspapers and magazines, quoted or referenced in 61 news national and international articles, had 2 of her short stories published, produced and/or consulted on 6 films, performed in over 130 Poetry performances and appeared in over 85 community outreach and engagement events. Dr. Williams-Witherspoon has successfully helped to mint 18 new PhD’s into the academy.

1. Why
Adam Vidiksis, drums

2. Crack of Morning
Mike Boone, bass
Bruce Barth, piano
Justin Faulkner, drums
excerpt from Naima, Fly With The Wind (BCM&D RECORDS)

3. I Like
Adam Vidiksis, composition and sound design

4. Love Is
Mike Boone, bass 
Bruce Barth, piano
Justin Faulkner, drums 
excerpt from Naima, Fly With The Wind (BCM&D RECORDS)

5. Fragile
Adam Vidiksis, composition and sound design

6. Making Yum Yum
Tim Warfield, saxophone
Mike Boone, bass
Bruce Barth, piano
Justin Faulkner, drums 
excerpt from Fly with the Wind, Fly With The Wind (BCM&D RECORDS)

7. 20/20
Adam Vidiksis, drums

8. Thank You
Manu Gajanan, keyboard
Nick Kruse, bass
Adam Vidiksis, drums

9. Coming Back Into Myself
Terell Stafford, trumpet
Mike Boone, bass 
Bruce Barth, piano
Justin Faulkner, drums 
excerpt from Naima, Fly With The Wind (BCM&D RECORDS)

10. Fragile Bag of Blood and Bones
Adam Vidiksis, composition and sound design

11. Kerplunk
Adam Vidiksis, composition and sound design

Executive Producers: David Pasbrig, Robert Stroker
Recording/Mixing/Mastering Engineer: David Pasbrig
Design: Greg Gonyea
Photo: Joseph V. Labolito

Recorded March/April 2023 at Boyer Recording Studio, Temple University