Dulband
Tulbent Tulipe Tulip All kinds of currency to invest in. The turban of flowers arising gently from the Earth (what does it call itself?) like a jewel adoring a crown, reminding us of the royalty this planet is. Pure poetry for our senses, how it says so much without ever uttering a word. A well-fed bumblebee played courier to this exchange of funds, a low drone of a buzz tone as it floated to and fro making withdrawals and deposits, being fed in the exchange.... Giving and receiving. Pollinating progress. Let’s have a long distance love affair, I’ll be Iris and you be Pistil. We’ll open towards the sun exposing the beauty of our being until we catch the buzz, this is how we’ll make love-giving and receiving, being fed in the exchange.
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Novemeber 25th, 2014
America Full of fear Eats it for breakfast lunch and dinner I see war in their dance and like Frankie Paul I worry tonight America's soul is afflicted conflicted and caught between itself and freedom A crazy place where truth is contraband and i don't understand when the mirror broke when did we stop seeing ourselves? who greets us in the broken shards as we piece ourselves together? who is there to hold your gaze as you muse on murder and weave lies into the truth of you? The biggest middle finger I've ever seen America The biggest goon on the scene America The one who steals hearts and dreams America Watch us melt into you Watch our blood spill into you mix it up stir it round pour sugar on top and drink it down without a sound fall into the ease of oppression and settle for something less than humanity less than the best thing settle into the sediment of black bodies fallen now bedrock in the waters America will one day call its grave we are witnessing the birth and death of an imagined... an evil empire playing... the good ol boys club cloaked under the white hood of... NATION burning crosses on the dry grasses of hope riding bareback through our dreams terrorizing we reminding me once more I am a stolen African Today's hot flavor but watch out! Tomorrow they might be coming for you... I have traveled this land felt her breathing heard her singing and one thing I know for sure we are not in America but we are together in some kind of solid-heir-ity of confusion not recognizing we are one body we are one spirit we are one breath we are one sound I stuck my ear to the Earth and heard the war march of us closing in ourselves the drums spoke and destruction is what they said |
AuthorI am a poet, for better or for worse. It is a way in my being that, ironically has no words. It is a way in my being that finds me when I, and helps me to, forget. I am a poet, for better or for worse. Archives
November 2021
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