Nooses Poems | Examples

Parasocial Relationship: What Remains Is the Latch

I’ve kept the bone-ash circle open—
chalked in wax traced from your last reply,
the one you coughed out sideways
between a mirror and an echo,
Just to reiterate, it read. 
(Though you’ve unsent it now—
the smoke still mouths it back.)

The salt forgets which door to guard,
whether you're enemy or friend.
My tea leaves knot themselves
into nooses. The knife won’t keep
its edge unless I say your name
with my mouth full of soot. You know
who you are. 

We only spoke three times—
I still remember your laugh. 

I burned your coat—
the one already nicked at the cuff,
lined with lint and one of my hours.
The smoke limped east,
then circled back.

I still leave the latch loose.
Not for you—
just in case
some ghost with your gait
remembers how
my spine once knocked
like a drum left running.

The Clearing

It's summer, and sunlight's syrup pours sweet into afternoon.
We've come to the bungalow's cemetery
to pick over bones of bygone days;
touch time's tender skin, lay flowers on childhood's grave.

The lodge is razed to the ground. We raise
our eyes to sky and take each big breath of blue.
Sharp lemon-light cuts through
the detritus of our days; the oaks once cloaked in dark.

The knotweed nooses and dreamlike domes of fly agaric
have all been cleared; the forest sentinels' leafless limbs
discarded - an abattoir of strangeness, sawdust-strewn.
But all dismemberment is a clearing of sorts.

The echoes of emptiness eavesdrop
on each reminiscence, as we forage for a few last remnants:
blue paisley swirls of 70s tiles,
red bricks from an 80s fireplace.

A yearning rises suddenly, slick sick-sour in my throat...
and yet, it feels cathartic, this purging of the past;
this merging of our then and now,
this blending of bitter and sweet.



23 February 2023

A Lesson In History: How To Subdue a People

A Lesson in History: How to Subdue a People

Be brazen in thievery and sweet-tongued deceit
To, of their lands and people, take receipt.
Merchandise their inhumane objectification,
And keep them checked with generous flagellation.
 
With threats of nooses around their necks, or mutilation,
Deny them education for continued Blaxploitation,
To engrave ignorance and inferiority in their genes,
And achieve their eternal subjugation by any means.
 
Pretend yours are the magic words to open doors,
Seize their diverse tongues and give them yours,
Forbid songs of their motherland in your fields of cotton,
So their origins, after few generations might be forgotten.
 
Confiscate their identities and give them your name
And refuse them every chance at some historical fame.
Rewrite as idiots and cowards their dead heroes and braves
To kill their ancestors again, even in their graves
 
But beware, for they’ll pull your cobwebs off their eyes
And in time, in bits and droves, see, hear, and begin to rise.
Their voices will grow deafening and their impacts more felt;
None can eternally hold a people with a whip and its welt!

Parodies

From your parapet of pity you prophesize and proclaim, 
That the widows of the tailors dug two shallow graves.

To mould the unmoulded into suits a crane, 
who makes such dreams built of rain, served on a the back of your undiscovered pain? 

A topographic phrenology that undulates the benign.. a course of repression not duly prescribe. While consciousness draws closer ticking over time,
we hear of other mumblers, shuffling for their dime.

Their mumbling over and over what's your sure once was mine.
Their mumbling over and over what's yours now must be mine.

So once again willing to put in the time. 
Castaway your wings sink to the sublime.

Indulge in divulgence, balance the the unclean, tightropes are not mere nooses for a canvass set unseen.

Rise From Your Knee

Old friend Democracy
There you are again
Finally
We thought you might have left us
Forever

Breathe
God Almighty
Breathe from your knee

And rise for every one
Like a black statue of liberty
Over the old ways of Confederacy

Put away
The power that rules
The gangland world.

Inhale the air and take our fear
Exhale a new century of equity

Release a revolution of new riches
Made of healing and advancing

All

A cosmic rainbow of color
Arcing
Over the wheat fields to the steel cities

A baby’s coo from her mother’s cradle
Born from where the sun begins

Wrists slipped from shackles
Voices loosed from nooses
Boots lifted from the backs of necks
Soot cleaned from Mother Earth

Democracy
Rise from your knee again

Breathe

Breathe
A familiar kind of destiny.

To be free. To be free. To be free.

Mississippi Voices

Dark echoes of the past reverberate 
In Mississippi voices filled with hate. 
This morning nooses hanging from a tree 
Remind us all of lynching history. 

Some people claim great progress has been made 
And racist attitudes, in time, will fade; 
If this is true then why do people try 
To resurrect the Old South's battle cry? 

To say Jeff Davis was a patriot 
Is simply vile and apoplectic rot. 
He was a traitor to his very core 
In spite of false heroic Southern lore. 

The South was built upon the backs of slaves 
Who found no freedom 'til they found their graves, 
And those who try to sanitize this truth 
Reanimate the hate of John Wilkes Booth.

In the Winter

oak bark suckle Gorillas boycott nests
dentists flee cobwebs contraband
prisoners hang nooses plates snowball

Cursed-Stithed Time-Piece

Crosses and x's burns and hexes 

Thread and rope nooses and cross stitch

Thread of time yet to unwind, to release the sands of time

Turn the hour glass to its side and hope to save some time inside 

Take a single grain of sand, take it not lightly to understand 

If you take that sand for granted, stitches come undone to show under the mask

The noose will slowly tie you down, take you into the hour glass

So maybe you could be seen as iconic as a hidden time piece

There is no escaping from the sands of time, it chokes you lifeless with it's twine 

You can try your best to escape, or wait for someone to turn the glass sideways to hold your fate

Hidden Figures

I am black and I say to kindred flames...
Never assert nor cry "things are the same".

It is the height of dishonor to our fathers,
Our hidden figures of the past, and our martyrs.

We no longer must hide. No need for underground trains.
Do not keep blaming injustice. It's a crooked cane.

Wait for the hand of the oppressor? That is madness!
Why would the oppressed ask the slave owner for access?

Let's take it upon our lettered selves to advance.
So, do not say "things are the same". Now is our chance!

If one hidden figure can succeed, there are no excuses.
If one hidden figure has engineered, where are the nooses?

It is a disgrace to our history to assert "things are the same".
It is a dishonor to our hidden figures...a noose and a chain.

As the Night Collects Your Debt

As the night collects your debt


Find this the rotting door now thrust,
creaking screams align the mire
Loosened shadows coughing dust
in a world now set afire

Worry gathers in the mist,
along a crooked staircase rise
Nooses hang from rafter’s twist,
portraits gaze through swollen eyes

Smell the stench of fevers past,
sweat does stream of wallowed reach
Moors in line of wretched cast,
lessons taught but not to teach

Break this bread of mirrored shard,
slurp your lime serrated drink
Write as if a napkin bard,
any thought with which you think

Last, these days of sorted lanes,
walking chains and lockets bore
Weakness in your heart now claims
of a time you lived before

Stare the darkness now you keep,
forcing out a sad regret
You shall sow the fear you reap
as the night collects your debt

We Ain'T Forgotton

“WE AIN’T FORGOTTEN…”

You cried a smile
shadowing anger
beneath a canopy 
of love

Your necks filled nooses
tied with Christian knots
that never failed

Your wombs challenged
the holding holes
of sanctified graveyards

You kneaded gospels
from the dough of pain
and fed starving souls:

You moaned songs
with groans echoing
echoes from the depths
of suffering spirits—

Suffering spirits
whose fortified bent backs
gave rise to a flourishing nation

The fruits of your labors
have now ripened:
dropping pregnant seeds
germinating liberty

upon justice…?

today
the rain fell
steadily;
her tears
reminiscent
of waters
drowning justice
struggling
to survive
tidal waves
of deception—
seeking to douse
the flame of hope
held high
in hand—
an elusive lady
struggling
to stand
her anchored
mooring

Lessons Learned

After the nooses and chains on ebony skins;
after the assumed witches burnt at the stakes;
after thousands lost their lives in Crusade wars;
after Jewish mass executions by Nazis......
I've seen and felt the muddy pool we had thrown
ourselves into.

I still feel horrified when I re-read history books,
and feel myself cloaked in humiliation and shame
of the humans we were before.

I have learned that I cannot change the past,
but I can act on the present,
offering servitude to humanity;
offering servitude to common good.....

Fatal Blow

life's 
beginning 
Anew.
Dreams 
suffocate
chasing
the extinction
of a canceled 
tomorrow.
Mysterious
Apparitions of
yesterdays faces
Appearing on pages
incites rages.
Of what could have been.
Uncouth tactics, games 
continue to be played
while the towel I through in waves 
in the turmoil.
Whose turn is it to feel the twist
of the knife.
Or to see the blood of a neck you've saved.
Pretentious and desperate nooses 
wait for enabled bodies to swing 
from fruitless trees.
Sirens roar as they drive slowly 
to save victims of suicide.
Never meant to be, but are.
Species impassioned for want of attention.
Lacking the ear for opening melodies.
A stranger, A whore in their past life
Walks barefoot in my big shoes prints. 
Picking up my discarded towel.
And finishes the game unscathed.

The Small Print

Jesus will love you completely, forever being by your side
Jesus will call often to you and me so one can't easily hide
Often aiding His children in so helping them along their way
He'll always find lost woman and men despite what they say

The more Jesus you take in the more joy one will encounter
You will not always win, but you will, be better than you were
Sounder sleep may also come for it is He who grants us peace
Doesn't work in thinking it's dumb or someone's trying to fleece

Be careful of outside influences that try in drawing you away
The devil's snares are all like nooses leaving the soul in decay
But all one needs do is to ask and Jesus will crush them all 
Requires some simple tasks in so requiring you hear His Call

Some roads may be very very long while others may be short 
The Lord can only keep you strong if each day to Him you report
Your reward is too big to fit here nor could anyone talk that fast
But if this still isn't all completely clear, well, you won't be the last

Matthew 20:16
“So the last shall be first, and the first last: 
for many be called, but few chosen.”

Soul's Figural

i have parched lips dripping on a highway mind 
besides your heart i dreamed and see cotton-candy buzzards
so drawn into your love i forgot i cannot go there
into your dead soul-cage heart ~
Gay!  Captivating word for this priceless Age !
a world now known for renowned investigators of cellophane
purple umbilical nooses 
A dictum of a new world! 
And a priceless Miss(believe it or)fagots are a certain young
(fe)male confused in our society no betrays the noose (oh hum)
give me a gun! So Miss(believe it or answer 
did (s)he meet the libido or cut that soul of baby breath or 
the highness of a higher mind? So time slows down and i give you
a poco purido to contemplate your Pieces out-of-water-fish
dancing dry death -- so they sing, "we don't know what it...
don't know what it means."

:: 01062016 ::

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