Poetry from Cold Sweat
Beautiful Aesthetic
we wear festival
bronze freedom pieces
adorn wrist and shine
with the sun beautifully
created with hand and imagination
appreciated like
silk screen t-shirts
that paraphrase books
in witty affirmations
of black love and pride
in stride with the
beat drum kick when
the piano breaks
for a bass solo
from the mainstage
walking through the marketplace
frankincense and curry
in the air swings a jazz
colorfully spirited
blended with traces
from the motherland
and caribbean
down south and made its
way to summertime in Chicago
Power in the Name
what's the difference between
collective thought and group think
what is it really to call Jesus
put that word and our breath
afloat into wavelengths
into the atmosphere sparing atoms
to carry the message
put all our energy into this thing
energizes what machine
bonding our connection
what's the mathematics
calling Jesus when it hurts
in ones and zeros
what comes back
after the push
((( Jesus )))
the sound and feel of each
syllable off tongue and lips
this word named
worthy and thrown
in sentence or phrase
what energy do we invoke
as we speak auroras
in prayers song and dance
worshipping like praise
how powerful a ritual
is that word name image brand
revolving the calendar and globe
make me forget my ancestor's saviors
that they have names too
deserving and wanting praise due
Routine
love breaking
send you on a
binge
need a song
a pen
a cigarette
to get through
the emotive confusion
disappointment
reality against the odds of intentions
questioning how love could equal this
us swimming in different directions
pacing to some destination
opposite the one we envisioned
to it over and done with
is the hardest thing
when i miss missing you -
specific to what happened
and created between us
personal as the only one who understands
purposeful as exactly what was needed
digging through crates
searching for the right ball point
chain smoking and
covered in sadness
trying to get over
you
Kinda Weird Like...
Cold Sweat
It's not just the AK47 armed policemen
or the armored tanks rolling down 79th street
not the helicopters circling
the neighborhood every night
more than the imagery
and frequency
not even the numbing sensation
of hearing the sirens so frequently
this is much more than section 8 and link cards
It's strange like...
an empty playground on a summer afternoon
or more blacks in prison than were enslaved
kinda weird like
a child needing a gun
Door of No Return
Door of No Return
she stands there
7x4 doorway
brick and bone
lining the shore
she's crying
video camera sagging
overwhelmed with emotions
reliving the abduction
the diaspora
floods back to her
tugging at her
screaming for her
rushing toward her
moving through her
around about her
she hyper-ventilates
forced to contemplate
and over-compensate
different pathways
to the same place
between the hard rock
and soft place
criminal theft or saving grace
supreme cruelty or fate
a blessed curse
between the hard rock
and the soft space