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(T)urban Currency

4/9/2020

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Picture
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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America Full Of Fear

4/7/2020

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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
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    Author

    I 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.

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