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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




love breaking 

send you on a 



need a song

a pen

a cigarette

to get through 


the emotive confusion


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 



Kinda Weird Like...

Cold Sweat art by camil.williams

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 art by camil.williams


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

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