Harambe the inquisitive Self
Harambe the mangy dog
Harambe the broken Spirit
Harambe whose bones are my altar, scepter
Harambe who in his jailhouse did rock
Harambe whose name is communal labor
Harambe who stared into clear blank eyes and intuited the nature of the Soul
Harambe because Blake
Harambe because Hattie Carroll
Harambe because Truth in unintelligible letters, bleak
Harambe because big black bullets pointed your way
Harambe because Et tu, Brute?
Harambe who constructed mental labyrinths out of paradise
Harambe who was half divine
Harambe who was half Man
Harambe who was full Anima Mundi
Harambe who was aped by the lollygagging necks and stiff roboticism of the masses
Harambe who was memed within an inch of his exhumed life
Harambe who was politicized
Harambe who was poeticized, needlessly
Harambe who stared down a Cincinnati sunrise just once upon arrival
Harambe who could not take it
Harambe who stayed inside all day
Harambe who was struck by the immensity of small broken objects (especially children)
Harambe who could not fathom my poetry, but wrote it all the same
Harambe who did not die in vain
Harambe whose voice will never taste his country
Harambe who no amount of ***** held out will return his stagnant soul to his body again
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 3:59 PM UTC
Remark, pageant, how well this worn Cartesian speaks silence instead of wit.
Crucify maybe and often; singsong prattle succumbs him you.
Torturified lamb’s breath, teensy sighs and sweep of tentacled agog garners attention and wildfire – hop and home to not attend, to see.
Brandish magma wake and crystal cleanse re-barb, vicious cycle in heat patterned pro-guiro neural network, neat, loud for senses laden.
Up them and through them.
Scent the seeks you stones in barb, a fence in white a guttered prose, slitherentine.
Stately made his gatekeep - defend you. Harbor outwards with willpower nonchalant.
Pardon his with provocations, decadent don’t they know. (You know you, don’t they?)
And then.
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 4:43 PM UTC
Girl, you know walls like the back of your lids
so let’s play cut the **** and walk through a door
for a change. I’ll even lock it.
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 4:38 PM UTC
A melody goes blip
A hangman gives up
No letters are given
And everybody goes home
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 4:35 PM UTC
There’s a lot of people you don’t know.
Then there’s a lot of people you don’t know
but have heard of, and know their work.
Then there are some people you’ll start
to know, know a little bit of, some
of the time. Just. These people know
this or they don’t. These people like to flit,
and know this. Or they don’t. Now
then, and then finally, but – a few others,
yes, of course – then there is yourself,
who is an other, a person people, of
course. This one you know
on occasion, and when the weather is
right, when the sun hits you like that
off your friend, her eyes and her tongue,
his laugh and its wake;
when the wind smells like it used to,
and you always knew that that was the best smell
but had never put it to the test.
Put me to test.
Then you know at least part of it, that
person. He’s you and she’s there, but so
what. Can you feel it like you your yourself,
and do those other ranks concur,
or is the map a listless thing,
walls up like sundown,
hazy in our blue light,
no stars the remedy for a feeling
this split.
Take her home under this
aegis and play the part. You’ll soon get tired
so that’s the point. No one will undo
your sensitivity; he will not fall into your
palm tree, nor shake down the coconuts.
This paradise extends to you self-assured
leeward, only,
propped up under each other’s semblance.
Of Self, now that’s the one. Don’t have
to hold on too tight. There are those that
would relinquish control with outstanding
clarity. You would skim all rank and creed, mind.
You will propel. Function. Initiate. Burn
and bleed and see. Nothing too complicated.
Or serious. Just people in their pile ups,
ego echoing with a submerged song
stifled under the submissive yawns of yesteryear,
provokes us all to shape darkly in each other’s
cupped and accompanying skeletons,
nestled in our animal independence,
skin-deep misty in the sighs of
our mutual opposition.
And then there’s love,
which goes all the way back around and
circumnavigates that lower half.
Just like that.
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 4:32 PM UTC
Big bouncy bright sky and diamonds and sky woman child and man full of diamonds, moon tree and sky with spinning smiles, light peace air and water cool with laughter smile of light diamond bright, bigness and bounce all there and up
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 4:29 PM UTC