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The wall is a place where dreams can happen
Look to the left. Why?
Nothingness
Screams emptiness at you
To make you regurgitate your thoughts
Into a blank place.

Give me your mind
The wall screams silently
One colour one tone one grey
Wall, another grey wall
Making up my grey home

I am in the corners of your mind
Says the wall
The wall laughs at me for it can be as still
As I ever could be
I long for quiet- I long for space
I long for emptiness no emotion no pace
Forever still like the wall

I envy its maker. Man.
Man made wall.
My Black Black Man
The Walls of your Mind
Beckon only a Unique kind
The Love of a full Woman
An illusioned witness to
the Truth behind You
and your fettered prime, can
Be more black, more diaspora than
thee. Educated with sight
Yet conflicted by societal rite
And a King in every Troubled Stage
Unable to Fight
Can or cannot Love right?
My Black black man.
To document one’s perception of reality is to understand the true importance of a memory.
Journal prologue
QUARTET OF HAIKU

just as the sun sets
if one turns in time to see
colors of life shine

her smile held me fast
illicit-flawed, by chance meet
of 10,000 days saved

out of night looming
two car lights careen, into
a dark road will reveal

carried by water
of echo repeat, on the verge
voices call out, to haunt

by Michael Perry
"Oh Aslan..." sighed she.
"I want to lay in your mane of red gold...
will you protect me from the world so cold,
whilst we explore these white lands of old-
behind the doors of my secret wardrobe."


Jennifer Alé
Narnia never stopped existing
She's a fragile rose... that can't be opened.
Jennifer Alé
The
sun came
for it's flower

she blushes in
the heat
of the
moment

her
petals
rouge from
a salmons pink

her joy always returns
with dew drops
of the dawn
that pearls
in the valley
of the rising sun

she is lotus my river of love.
For my wife
My lotus
My river of love
He was a mountain.

She was the ocean.

Reaching for the stars,
Bound by his roots

Still and storm
Black and blue

She was the ocean
Beating against his rock

He was a mountain
And waves could not a mountain block

A bottomless fountain
Breaking with every motion

He was a mountain

And

She was an ocean
What's it take
These days

To write a poem

That makes the world go mad
That brings the crowds to their feet
That spreads like wildfire
Through a dry winter forest

Is it those excessively long words?
The ostentatiously loquacious
Platitudinous ramblings
Of an insecure mind aspiring
To authentic intellect?

Is it perhaps...
     the "creativity"
               of      varied      spacing
  or...    could it be..... the lack
                              of capitalization
               the loathsome little letters
               screaming out
                         hey, look at us!
         ... or maybe it's
               the punctuation marks,
     littered, haphazardly
          through the text
                    (whether used correctly)
               or, theyre not?!
     despite worrds mispeled
          and a grammar might is broken
   can these gimmicks increase interest
        though miswritten or misspoken?

Is the trick alliteration
Whose bite brightly bids us
To center on the snappy sounds?
Although all along
     unvoiced underneath
Ideas idle in the isles
   (or perhaps the aisles)
Of the mind
To meld and craft and bind
Our thorough thoughts
And worthy words
Into lines
Which
Heard by herds
Raise the
                  Praise for which we
                  Privately, desperately
                  Pray

Maybe it's a magical mix
Of splendid in-your-head rhythm
Marvelous meter that perfectly clicks
Flowing smoothly without schism

Well-spaced stanzas
Well-used time
Well-crafted phrases
Well-thought-out rhymes

Well, maybe not...
     those gems are often ignored
     cast-aside, unread, even abhorred

Why?

Because the modern world
doesn't need your rules
your restrictions
your regulations
your misguided boundaries
your oppression
your antiquated ideas
   of "the right way"
   to write
   to speak
   to act
   to live
   to (fill in the blank)

No, what the modern world needs
is
Negation!
Contradiction!
Resistance!
Revolt!

And poetry whose words
Say the same thing
Repeat the same meaning
Echo the same lyrics
Rephrase the same thoughts
But in an ever-so-slightly
Different
Varied
Altered
Adjusted
Changed up way

Line
After line
Of synonyms
          over
               and
                    over
                         and
                              over
                                   again

-----

What's it take
These days

To not give in
To narcissism's spiral?

But more importantly:
What's it take

To make my poem go viral?
Only halfway cynically written, I swear!
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