Lemon grass fragrant and delicate
scents the air
pale light greens and yellowing brown wisps
float in the breeze
chilly light beneath a pale white sun;
December first edges in the season
greeting crisp brown shades
faltering after the frost
solid earthen steps echo
throughout the naked forests;
History resounds reminders
of seasons passed and forgotten
resurging the dreams
that once lived, longed for discovery
resonating reverberations of the past;
December reawakes
the child of inspiration
caricatured parody of who we once were
breathing in the hopes and dreams
of a Christmas memory revived
a December on the wind.
I Can’t Breathe
I can’t breathe
The weight of a thousand elephants is bestowed upon me
Narrative tracing back to history
Black and blue
The pride of the pit
I’m swallowed into it
The big elephant done left the room
Division and ignorance
The blind truth of our existence
Your knee to my neck
My face to concrete
I can’t breath
Others look on
Minding their own business
Hung upon a tree
Blood to foliage ,
Drenching the earth
I can’t breathe
Out of breath
Laid to rest
On the street
At the hands of police
A spectacle for the best of appetites
The pattern repeats
Black bodies on display
Like fresh supermarket meats
Caricatured and forced into a mold
A joke beyond belief
Gassed and hosed down
And chased by wolves
Branded and seized like livestock by animalistic human beings
Dignity exchanged for merchandise and profitability
Bound to chains everywhere their feet may lead
The spirit never dies even when commodified
And silenced by the whip and lashed
Marckincia Jean
Free verse
07/05/20
Beach Boys
Male, wise virgin sly.
within their pubic-awkward
brawn, they testify
to ultimate wry-caricatured
innocence of flesh.
The body? Yes. But strutting chaste
and mirror brave--enough
for mirror bluff.
None dares to risk
(or daring, could but hate)
A dim-lit face-to-face
With female, wantflesh Odalisque.
Rather than but like
graffiti it is
this life, this love
out there yet hidden
in the art form
out of mind
caricatured remnants
of moments past
the sniff of glue, enamel vapour
the splatter of it
on the backdrop of imagination
reality forms
Like Graffiti
Animation...imagination,
what's your subjective fixation?
Character's caricatured,
what's the true meaning of culture?
Silhouette's dancing their empty minuets
walking chalklines... trying to forget,
aoristic encumbrance trapped by horizon
self requited state,inescapable oblivion...
Disillusioned by glamours firework spectacle
existing amongst the crowded theatrical,
hard to distinquish the real from the unreal
only to settle for compromised deals...
Truth and error...more than,right or wrong,
mighty is the truth,more mighty than the strong
subjective truths from undeveloped compartments,
objective of the soul,is to form at-one-ment...
Our humanity shouldn't become such a detriment,
all we need is a little enlightenment...
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