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(da poem)
It started out as a simple little phone call
But quickly turned into an infatuation
When I first saw you, my manhood jumped
My heart was pumped with blood
You made my boxers melt like butter
I wanted you so damn bad
I wanted everything you had
It’s a shame that I fell too hard, too quick
I told myself yo stop falling
But I couldn’t
You forgot about me, but I didn’t forget about U
Distance had us beat, but when I saw you on the street
You played me!
Acted like you didn’t know me
I played myself !!!
For thinking you liked me back
I played myself
For thinking I could get what I wanted
When I saw you in the club
I had to give you a hug
We danced and had a fun
I was taken to ecstasy
As I stroked your soft body
Made my manhood jump once more
But yet again I had the door shut!
In my face
I played myself again!!!
I guess it wasn’t meant for me to win
Yeah, I think you stole my heart from me
But it looks like I jus played myself
No, I won’t stress it…I’ll just quit
But you are giving up
Some good-ass shit!
© 2003 by Dominique Rashad Battle
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Remembering Gwendolyn's of
(Gwendolyn Brooks 1917-2000)
From within our formlessness you formed
compressing gaseous us into your core
the gravity of your soul drawing us into
you like dust into a vacuum
we warmed as you expanded into
your beautiful self, enlightening each of
inside us with a brilliance two thousand
suns greater than our own
into our blazing nature you fused
control, elegance, and grace. you
then, the selfless giant that you were,
blew us back into our newly formed
possible selves, like an anther releasing
dandelion pollen into the winds
now sweet mother, your physical brilliance
has contracted, leaving us to orbit about your
soul as brown dwarfs ever in need of its blackbody
but we fret not mother Gwen
your away is not so far
we'll meet upon forever's when
and dance with you amongst the stars
Copyright Akintiunde
noromyxo@freeler.nl
Supernaturalism (II)
Il Mosč–Semeiosis (Pt. I)
Some vessels from his chin down
Constituting his long beard
Under neatly short-cut head
Meticulously imitated arms
Fine folds in his drapery
Unfolding just one knee
Hands—or only fingers—
Might be too tall gripping
In lengths of beard’s hairs
As in a Beatific Vision
Sun beams yellow from front windows
Grid an arbitrary free pattern on
The marble in this Old Sacristy
As free as dusk and dawn
As free as summer and winter
As free as spring and autumn
Nature empersonalized
Each quarter adds new details—
See the clothes over his shoulders!—
See the sun on his cheeks, his fore-
Head, his skin, his dress—Shine!
Index, icon or symbol—some say reality
Some saw reality, some witnessed Reality
In tricks of light which only finds rest
In his right arm’s two rectangular plates
"When the LORD had finished speak-
ing to Moses on Mount Sinai, He gave
him the two tablets of the command-
ments, the stone tablets inscribed by
God’s finger."
Xanadu (Ofvaticanfame) for Poetology (April 2003)
(Thanks to Roland Barthes, Exodus 31, 18, Michelangelo, and Chiesa di San Pietro in Vincoli)
STARVING CHILD Posted 3-23-2003 09:01
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STARVING CHILD
Her child, hungry, rests discontented
on her withered form,
rummages drained breasts.
Empty stomachs churn and rumble,
inharmonious to throaty rattles
pushed from his tiny chest.
Mother and child sway
to Seraph's psalm of death.
Deliberately unaware of wilted child,
cradled, languid, in gaunt and waning arms
Social order's well fed whores,
plump and content,
casually tosses nourishment,
ungratefully,
into overflowed garbage cans.
Opulence, fat and complacent,
cover the inhumane infringement,
turn, walk away without thought or concern.
America's lids teeter rotting indulgence,
unashamed.
With arms to frail to hold him
she surrenders her desperate grasp.
His bereavement hymn, foreboding,
echoes through the night
In the silence of her respire,
he hears his inescapable call
descends her remains, quivers
and expels his last breath.
Linda DiFeterici-Stehling
eye don't quite don't know what's
caused the haptic halt in heaven
but eye guess our hands are tied
tried to conceive purity
but we were captured along the ride
eyell take control of all that's wrong
and turn right in life's maze
see brotha if luvin u is wrong
then wrong must be right
or you must be
the right kind of wrong
right... wrong
eyell sing along
to the tune of your heart beat
beating hearts find solitude
inside those who are in tune
eyem neither losing sleep
or havin trouble tryna eat
but ur absence is taking its toll
eyeve brewed the roses that u bought me
into a tea
see eye wanna taste your luv
constantly keeping my hand beneath the cup as I sip
see eye don't wanna waste one drop or drip of your love
cus its equivalent to the taste of freedom
that rung in pre slave ship eardrums
when we drummed the rising of moons and suns
giving lite to the wise and new born ones
in whom life cycles are shown
infinite like ankhs and ohms
connected locks bones
u and eye r one
and still neva alone
mah brotha
luva
fatha of many muthas
u rise as
eye and eye
sees fit
in his eyes
to no surprise
u'll be welcumed back
to ur seat
at his side
© Angel Rollins 2002
