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You aren’t allowed to look into my eyes And find my shades of brown. To span into my inseparable planets and walk on their landscape if you cannot stand your ground. To articulate my soul’s horizons and expect the tribes of my heart to identify with the warriors of your smiles. You have mounted prints on my skin that I cannot allow you to be on a desperate pursuit. We are walking on celestial miles. This distance is an eternal migration. A surreal outrage. A magazine clipping holding our narrative Of how we could be more ancient. If we are humanity, then this our homage. This desire can’t be understood by any traditional language. I dance in the aromas of your paranoid fears. Repress our super-life in hopes to meditate in our under-life. Be in my reincarnations and leave me in Suspense of what has been hidden. This prehistoric jungle is visible. Collect the heritage of our abstract wildlife And try to stop the waterfalls of my being. Because I like wondering what you are talking about With my mind’s paintings. You aren`t allowed to know my tree’s crown But keep describing the sunlight by always watering and kissing me. {XM} Amazon Link: Firstly Published on 2019 by Outcast Magazine Outcast Mag link:

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

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Date: 10/16/2020 8:30:00 AM
Great last line.. I can see why you are a published poet..
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Mannie Avatar
Zoleka Mannie
Date: 10/17/2020 7:17:00 AM
I self-published, not really the same but I am working on more bodies of work. I just felt it was time to share my work and trust the journey. I wish to get published and have the whole experience but will see.