Double-dutch ropes slap the sidewalk -
snap - snap - snap -
braids whip air,
girls jump in, counting
uno, dos, three,
feet flick like drumsticks.
The ice cream truck jingles off-key,
icy lady shakes paper cups,
piragua man shaves ice into snow -
his knife scraping the block awake.
Pastelillos pop in hot oil -
spit, sizzle -
plastic cups clink with rum and cola,
congas crack, maracas shake salt in the air,
horns blare like chisme in heat.
Heels click-clack over concrete -
punctuating each spin,
each swirl of hips.
Whistles split the air -
one from the lifeguard at Jefferson,
two from the men on the corner,
three from abuela
when the coals are hot.
Somebody throws meat on the grill -
ssszzzz -
smoke climbs windows,
neighbors bring foil trays -
yellow rice, ribs, roasted corn -
each dish a downbeat.
Kids yell cannonball,
water smacks back,
lifeguard’s whistle cuts through splash.
Old heads tap dominoes on tabletops -
crack, slap, smack -
hands older than the stoops they sit on.
The block fills itself
the way music fills a drum -
the street hums under bare feet.
Tonight,
the moon will smell like charcoal
and sweet ice.
I hear the way you talk
of your friends without end,
the gossip goes on non-stop,
about them and their men,
so vicious the things you say,
shock to see, candidly,
imagine what you must claim
about me, when you’re free…
Back it up,
take that sh-t elsewhere,
woman, I no longer care.
Pack it up,
The drama I’ll spare,
woman, I no longer care.
Eyes sparkle when thing go wrong,
like a beast set to feast,
all the chaos makes you strong,
that you seek, like a treat.
Relish when your friends get rough,
their beak-ups, you just love,
you can never get enough,
in your gut need this stuff.
Back it up,
take that sh-t elsewhere,
woman, I no longer care.
Pack it up,
the drama I’ll spare,
woman, I no longer care.
I see your words and lies
going around everywhere,
it makes you feel alive,
when all their mistakes you blare.
Makes you think you’re better,
your ego is a damn addict,
go peddle it online,
I have got no time for this.
Back it up,
take that sh-t elsewhere,
woman, I no longer care.
Pack it up,
the drama I’ll spare,
woman, I no longer care.
It will only end in despair.
whistles blare
gun powder in the air
lead pours overhead
I can't wait to feel my bed
I line up my rifle
breathe and squeeze
my orders are to strife
I run empty so I freeze
the quit nights are haunted
this conflict was unwanted
one more tally added; I can't mask it
make sure they spell it right on my casket
On the day of the Lord the human shall fear,
A terrifying god whom will Christians duly Peer,
The dead shall live again - the Christian tear,
A monopolising Christianity that cannot hear.
With, or without, all people are flatly, truly loved,
Without malice or tub, to jingle coyly ungloved,
Whatever the decade, decision, rubbed, tugged,
A transcendental god shall ring these beloved.
Talking clouds blown by earth’s graphic might,
Pose for the distant, scathed by a distinct light:
Enemies rise n’ fall as if tugging the dark night,
Offsetting the juggernaut of the ready birthrite.
A thought for people, bound, wet in eye-glare,
Principles, claims and chains won’t be the fare;
Nothing will work except behaviour and blare,
To suggest an ascent coloured by another wear.
All people are of inherent and fully equal worth,
God dies again for the decliner’s identity of birth,
Inside - not as proactive, with his mobile hearth,
A blacklist deceives those fleeing their childbirth.
Dominique Webb
An isolating darkness looms:
A numb yet tingled skin;
And residues of twilight's gloom,
As walls unseen close in.
This place feels sharp, yet vague and stale;
The clash stirs strife within.
My fingers click and spread—a snap!
So faint—I fear I'm dead.
Insipid airs invade my lungs:
The voices haunt my ears;
Adrift in dreamlike black, undone,
Alone, still lacking fear.
Commanded, guided, commandeered
My soul is tugged then shoved;
My anger swells, for loss so sheer,
No helm, no sense, bereft.
To think, therefore to be—I blare!
The real is mine to snatch;
I’ll walk into the tunnel’s flare,
My exit door unlatched.
Delectable dreams of sweet treats
chasing after the ice cream truck.
Lunge for that strawberry eclair,
fast like your life depends on it.
A street’s dead end cul-de-sac meets
flavors that leave children awestruck.
At three each day they wait aware,
warms days they’re eager to commit.
Anxious to hear that rhythmic blare,
soon they’ll taste that banana split.
Electricity crackles in the air
roller-coaster careening
off its track as silver trumpets blare
Gangs teem and thrive in jungles
from Africa to American streets
shells of bodies without heartbeats
Naked greed meets raw power
each devours the other
~ carcasses to recover
If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor – Desmond Tutu
The Trumpet of Parrots
Patriots rally to the trumpet sound,
its blare echoes the lies that bigots breed.
Perched in power, pipers, in pretence gowned,
their hatred spreads, disguised as noble creed.
They stoke the tribal fire in ancient scars,
while hissing hypes to mask the stench of greed.
Their chorus of lies taints Venus and Mars,
who like pawns follow blindly the king’s lead.
Their victims vilified and ridiculed.
Protesters branded as dregs of the state,
by troops of diehards loathsome and unschooled,
As crony capitalists preach their hate.
So, mark the flock that flaps where conscience sleeps:
A nation full of parrots gently weeps.
-Slow down-
Even the sounds of
rushing red waters
pulsing...
drown out the beats
that blare in my head
- Slow Down -
My thoughts spin like a carousel of fervent beats,
while I watch the harbors of still waters,
a gentle surrender to time, drift away.
Every stride toward solace
meets the rush of a furious current
that demands to be heard.
BREATHE
They say.
But they don't offer oxygen.
What I breathe is not oxygen.
Its substance holds the burdens
of a thousand silver hearts,
multiplied by the mixture of red and blue,
each breath breathes a hue of purple horrors
that hold the millions of salted waters
dammed at the gates within the corners of my eyes -
flooded waters locked up behind walls armored with diamond rings-
where the clamor of the inner gale shouts louder than the silence,
and spring sings a name I cannot remember.
- SLOW DOWN -
One more time it calls.
One more time.
I reach for a pause in the relentless tide,
where hope hopes to reside
and symphonies play melodies
where tired souls dare to stay.
Maybe mine would dare
if it'd slow down.
They've done with this world, they've shut up shop,
They've locked every door and window.
They've pulled the curtains tight, all in is excluded within.
All dissension within is chained up and barred shut, all out of spite.
They've silenced the migratory birds,
They've told them to go sing to the neighbors instead.
The postman now tosses their mail in the bin,
As the sign on their letterbox proclaims, “World’s switched off!”
The planet can spin, it's so nice elsewhere.
Who needs the cranky, spiteful, detached, deluded - U.S.
When we folks, all around here, are the welcoming sharing 'us'
We no longer want to hear the TRUMPet blare!
Let 'em cut off their nose to spite their face.
The sun is up the sky is blue today is beautiful and so are you
inside this April morn, the angels are sending you kisses
that you don't have to earn...
The day has risen dawn is here, bright lit like God's chandelier
within your heart there is a prayer , ready for the blare
you just have to say it !
The sun is yours, claim it as your own your not alone
surrounded by His light be all that you can be
take your life and live it my friend !
The day is long but it can be strong if you belong
take my hand and we are half way there
smile ! for God made you this way !
Heh !
I cannot bear it
I have blocked out daylight
from my bedroom.
A beautiful Spring is coming,
but the dead come with it.
Every year bodies slide into the earth,
the daffodils sprout,
unearthed trumpets blare -
an ominous silence.
Here in Ohio, the Miami Indians
built mounds
in the form of a serpent.
They understood that Spring
was both hungry and dangerous.
The elders were resigned.
They knew that Spring
arrives with a newly sharpened knife.
The warming season, so mild and welcoming,
quickly plows under another winter,
and death works the plow.
Today--
You rant,"oh boy! You too timid,
Ah! Clumsy like a sloth and white-liver'd
Like a mouse. . . Bad! Too bad!
Tomorrow --
You blare,"hush lad! You so unruly,
Oh! Obstinate like a mule and hot-head'd
Like a starved jackal . . . terrible!
So terrible!
(. . . repeatedly in the same pattern)
I don't care
For I know WHO I AM.
STOP! screams the sign
As the bus slowly glides
To a place made for safety
For the children's home rides
The blare of the horn
On the old wagon shifter
As it ignores the stop
And skirts like a drifter
The children cry out
In shock and dismay
As the old wagon shifter
Screeches away
Up ahead on the pavement
The old shifter has stopped
The police are all there
And the front tyre is popped
The driver reflects
On this karma magnetic
As the school bus slows down
To see justice poetic
My WILL I will this will to be. I often wonder seldom blunder
Though I thunder I stand GUARD this
FAR! Will I fill what is to BE? Will I
Fulfill my DESTINY? This
Destiny IS FOR ME? on this GAURD
EVER ever FAR! JUST AS I WILL THIS
TO BE! You will see ALL SHINE AND
BRIGHT YOU SEE THAT CAN BLIND
THE EYES! careful CHEERFUL! Be
At EASE. NO struggle or tear! NOT FEAR! Not even a little wear! I
promise for I am
Sincere. Aaaha! BIG BLARE! WE ARE
HERE! Right WHERE? Every spaces
All those PLACES! Look
around and around You? Are WE NOW
YOU ARE US! Not to BE EXPLAINED!
You will know all you NEED! aah
WISDOM!
Malik Val Brooklyn Rogers
Black Panther Jet Blackest Answerer
Mali Mali Mali ????
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