No, I'm not one of those who say, "It's nothing, it's collateral damage for just cause."
How much I regret this plight of conscience,
people walking around unmindful of the tragedy.
Have they no trace of humanity?
Are there no rules of war?
Is genocide allowed?
The spirit of contradiction marks the West, shattering tranquility of academic ivory towers, desperately requiring Nietzschean jailbreak; their sorrow is shallowest thing, they're afraid of their own shadow.
Look no further than Nazi atrocities,
are there no lessons from history?
Follow not the logic of occupiers, colonizing morality.
They color the silence of their tongues with crocodile tears.
No grabby
Material axis-
Astounded this fundamental
Fact of blistering depth-
How meaning wraps inside
Taking hold as you open
A netting to be grazed
By the spirit of nuance
Our fruit grabbing, knee jerk flattered
And upward rejection keeps
Consciousness at its sliver
Like Pavlovian organelles
Somewhere back the atom-split
Nietzschean absurdity left
Our borders bulging
With nothing left to do
Assuming inherent harmonics
Reapply the will to grace
Re-energizing a forgotten fate
And capturing passion
On this expanding phoenix
Countee Cullen knew you, and you nectared him
Lambent voice when Harlem was wrapped in night
Artist and rebel, African singer of Grecian hymn
Umbilical to Jamaica, nightingale in Nietzschean flight
Deny not the laurels I lay at your feet
Encourage me to measure as I sing your feat.
Mentor of Langston from the village desk
Chronicler of blackness in its untenderness
Kingston remembers your ballads and text
Ark of nation language, before the temptress
Yarned with the tongue that feeds our bitterness.
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