PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I be one with Sun-tanning moons

In the midst of nowhere and somewhere else

Injecting myself into Saturn’s lost lagoons

Obtaining waves…

‘Cause I heard ladies love niggas with that good hair

I be where you’re beware of niggas that exist like spit-fiery sun rays of Mars earlier days

Beaming up like planetarium base heads

And ghetto-galactic space heads

And I braid my thoughts

And brainstorm through minds taught by niggas who are store bought,

Which brought me back to the commercialization of this nation

Debating on whether or not I should escape this fiction

‘Cause reality is more of an addiction

Than actuality

And my sanity sits on the front porch of a plantation

That still enslaves my brothers;

That instills their sinful semen in the womb of my mothers,

Giving birth to my Uncle Thomas

While your Uncle Sam is wrongfully exonerated for my sisters’ molestation…

And on the very next day…

S/he was born -

Intoxicated by the expediency of time…

She showed me around her plantation -

My mind

It was not the traveling that confined my identity -

Deeply rooted feet and walking lynching trees -

I got lost in Color Purple,

Searching for golden Moon-shine,

And black Sun-waves…

And upon the trace of Yesterday I found the Blues…

I was afraid to return my gaze to you;

Afraid to return my gaze to the crystal waves of your eyes,

Because of the fantasies pasted to my face…

I was shamed -

Remain rename-less, since your aimless kiss seemed to have missed its destination

And landed upon the concentration of my contemplated thought to kiss…

You see through blues,

Passing your hand straight through my vision…

Only to watch it disperse,

And take another image…

Like Diaspora -

The whispers of brotherhood and unification -

Discontinued stretches of subway stations,

Traveling to sub conscious states,

Transferring by train of thought -

Which brought me back to your door…

Resilient whispers of Diaspora through asthmatic breathing…

I asked of her the aspect in which she as reading…

“Shush… I’m singing…

Di…as…po…ra…”

I then asked of her to bring me a liquid to parch my throat

S/he offered me the last bottle of her tears,

Which not only quenched my thirst,

But also my fears…

Now I’m afraid to dream…

Now I’m drowning in the Rhine streams of another man’s dreams,

Swimming up the Rivers of Mississippi Burning,

Running from the yearnings of my own lynching,

‘Cause in the minstrel mirror of my conception

All I see is the reflection of my poor black self;

The death of a white girl’s health…

For befriending a nigga;

For being friends with herself -

The bigger nigga in their eyes -

So blind,

They despised the lies told from their own lips…

My identity dripped when not holding my breath…

{“Retaliation results to lynching ‘round here….”}

So, I had to catch my self…

Forced to catch up with my breath -

Racing like New York state of minds…

And his…

And hers…

On Frisco Interstates;

Interracial states;

Whites state that Black cities aren’t limited,

Yet in White states freedom is outside of Black city limits,

And Black state laws are deferred instead of passed…

I ran so fast that the souls on my shoes caught Ill Street Blues murdering its rubber,

And I witnessed dead end streets resurrect on the side of the street I thought I wasn’t standing…

Apparently they weren’t too fond of niggas neither…

And I believe that they were worshipers of the devil -

The devil being the Sun…

“Yo what up son?”

“Where you going son?”

“Son, where you coming from son?”

“Where’s your pass son?”

Sun was starting to scare me,

And my wind grew thin…

{“Niggas aint suppose to be slaves to other niggas…

What generation are they lost in?”}

Blinded by their eclipsed Sun,

They tied me up in time,

And laid me next to dead weight,

{“He must have also tried to escape?”}

And placed their fears in my mouth,

Attempting to destroy my Kingdom;

My Temple,

But all I tasted was freedom,

And with whispers of Diaspora,

S/he discovered me…

This time with my fantasies pasted to my tongue…

S/he hummed…

“Di…as…po…ra…”

The dispersion of color blindness by dead end streets…

S/he untied my hands from around the back of a long day,

And loosen the time from around my feet,

Giving circulation to my mind,

Allowing my thoughts to walk freely…

S/he rewarded me with my dreams,

And took back her eternity,

And slept reality…

I was home…

Finally…

Finally free…

…{“Yo, where you been son?”}…







Tha Prodigal One...