Sagging verses of the dead man's past drift aimlessly over
the peaks and valleys of her soul.
"Break my bones but not my mind,"
she pleads - no, whispers.
And now she cries
for revolutionaries deem her spirit weak and body fragile
in its current state of civil war.

Forgive me while I bathe in ice cubes
and brace my back against the wall.
The smokey glow grows weak, is thrown down
on shadowy depths of the concrete floor.

"Give me peace, no, bring me comfort"
in the form of coke and gasoline.
But before we dance upon the ashes...

I learned of saints and sinners from Elizabeth's ghost
and the truth about life versus living from Foreman's wrench.

Yet tomorrow's sunrise left soldiers
blinking at the pain in numbers
printed on fragile forearms and bright red shadows
singing lullabies.

I miss the call to prayer of my heroes town
The slow, mournful, writhing rings
that reach toward the black-cloaked beauties with
heads bowed over their smiling eyes

His voice trills and bows
And I remember the chills it sent up my spine to hear the intensity and sense the powerful devotion
that one man
one voice
one word can bring.

Inshallah

Hello, I hope to be your smile
I want to ease your cries
I want to hold and love you, darling
- There's beauty in your lies

Tell me your story
tell me your secrets
But not a sound from me
And if you want to hear my whisper
You'll wait on bended knee

I'll give you a piece of myself now, gorgeous
No, not my heart; you don't deserve it
You'll keep it close, you'll keep it safe
Now tell me you love me and make it perfect

Oh wait, you do?
No, that's not news
Not after all I've done for you.

Your heart is mine!
I've won! It's time.
Just stand there and
I'll wave goodbye...

The paint-splattered teardrops of yesterday's surrender left me lying here alone,
shattered and lonely,
alone with my colors as they seep slowly, mixing across the floor.

The wood splinters with every new vision,
becoming what's yours and bleeding me dry.

But when I think it has finally broken,
my steps they smear into hushed clouds of white
looking up at me with gracious eyes and heavy smiles
screaming, "Give me love," and release me from this unraveling thread
binding arm and hip to restless mind and peaceless soul.

The salvation of yesterday's tomorrow
creeps blisterlingly by,
torturingly
resurrecting stale hopes of today's past.

In silence we dream of golden canals
and fluttering kisses
of the white man's world,
left superficially untouched by loose laws and pendulous light.

Only history's kings remain incumbent.

Zestless promises of the white fence linger ceaselessly in the campus of hippos
unencumbered by the passive revolt of tomorrow's yesterday yet
lost in the oceans of affirmative action
and unsteady governmental regimes.