I think
a storm is coming.
I feel
electric
magic
curling through the air.
I think
the beginning is coming.
so glad
we are finally
here.
Author: nomisyar
I collect Spores, Molds, and Fungus.
mandinga man
as the wind
twists
around curled fingers,
a thunder
rolls within his chest.
a gentle deluge of inspired madness
swings a lithe frame.
and the music plays.
one last time,
for the first time,
he steps into the game.
and the music plays.
Vestigial
A baby is born,
smooth onyx skin.
strong.
beautiful.
and black.
room filled with cheer and praise,
laughter
and love.
and relief too.
But
no one notices….
(or everyone pretends not to notice)
that shadow
in the small of his back
darker,
than his black skin.
no one sees
the faint tattoo shaped like jagged crow.
Not even the father, who has the same.
the boy grows,
young, gifted
and black.
bright white eyes looking forward,
but no one ever tells him
what is always behind him.
one day however,
the looks and the whispers,
and questionable jokes-
punctuated
by exclamation marks
swinging from trees
add up.
eventually
he comes to know what has followed him
all
his
life.
some cut it right off and are free:
free of their fathers
free of their history
free to build anew, upon a cloud of shame.
some see it and know it,
and they hate it.
and that crow festers into a rot,
into a poison.
they are lost and feel hopeless
my brother
do not cut away
that which made us strong.
and do not curse
that which is already done.
embrace the pain.
and know
that behind that crow
a lion roars.
…..
A PRIDE OF LIONS ROAR
so its OK for you to Roar too
Happy Fourth of July.
Keep on, Keeping on.
A baby is born,
smooth onyx skin.
strong.
beautiful.
and black.
room filled with cheer and praise,
laughter
and love.
and relief too.
But
no one notices….
(or everyone pretends not to notice)
that shadow
in the small of his back
darker,
than his black skin.
no one sees
the faint tattoo shaped like jagged crow.
Not even the father, who has the same.
the boy grows,
young, gifted
and black.
bright white eyes looking forward,
but no one ever tells him
what is always behind him.
one day however,
the looks and the whispers,
and questionable jokes-
punctuated
by exclamation marks
swinging from trees
add up.
eventually
he comes to know what has followed him
all
his
life.
some cut it right off and are free:
free of their fathers
free of their history
free to build anew, upon a cloud of shame.
some see it and know it,
and they hate it.
and that crow festers into a rot,
into a poison.
they are lost and feel hopeless
my brother
do not cut away
that which made us strong.
and do not curse
that which is already done.
embrace the pain.
and know
that behind that crow
a lion roars.
…..
A PRIDE OF LIONS ROAR
so its OK for you to Roar too
Happy Fourth of July.
Keep on, Keeping on.
My Country, ‘Tis Not For Me (Nor Thee)
running routes – all nasty and smooth
but we don’t run shit.
one kneeling blackskin
vs
32 Redskins.
&
White guilt, camouflaged as indignant rage.
&
Blue lines -blurred, at best.
one man. one strong man. one Black man.
My Brother,
you are not alone.
you are not
alone.
we are one nation
divided.
but
you are not alone.
But,
I will not lie,
it is dark right now.
Our light, once a beacon of potential,
is broken by prisms of greed,
and shrouded in a the veil of fear.
it is dark.
I was born right here,
in the dark
and I ain’t never been home.
never.
but,
hope
springs eternal
and,
if we close our eyes
and open our hearts
some may see,
not
you and me,
But We.
I know a blind man
who could see the beauty
we yearn to be:
ancestor
howling
in the midnight wind.
pleading
for me to live.
who
have i become?
beg dry
and frightened eyes.
where
am
I?
i accept the sins of my past
which boil in my blood.
why won’t you feel history’s pain,
which taints yours.
dont you
want,
to be free?
Lyrical Paradox-ical
free to cartwheel
amongst the gears
–
brave enough
to sup on fears
complicated discussions
on the meaning of life
–
protecting the innocent
by flashing a knife
ecstatic wanderings
in a lonely bed.
–
the deepest wisdom
in an innocent’s head
golden raindrops
on a cloudless day.
–
keeping silent
to have your say
Serendipity (in) III (parts)
plans torn
asunder;
and rocked
by diluvial
oenophil’ ic rage.
presently,
patiently
&
gracefully,
“The Now” traipses
in.
blinded
by the starlight
in my heart,
I greet this moment with a bow,
and
we
shall dance.
jezebel the devourer
I find her
lost
in the grasp of
a previous lover’s
greedy comings
and goings.
humbly
I add to that wellspring
of desire
and yearning….
never filled
never at peace
but free.
star crossed
these rainbow
vibes
were never meant for you.
rays
of scattered gold
could only blind.
moles are happy,
I guess,
roaming in the dark.
but moles and phoenix
rarely play
burning
I light
this candle
to
the joy floating
within me.
this love witch
grants me the grace
to cleave unto beauty,
and
onto thee
