I keep thinking about this beautiful girl from the mental hospital. Her name was Carion, and she didn't exist.
She had lived her entire life without a social security number, no blood type or birth certificate to define her
and the walls of Calhoun couldn't confine her because she would
Carry On - that's how I spelled it in my head.
I know her name was only one 'r' from being the word for dead animals, but it never registered for me.
She was no corpse for vultures or hounds, but they stalked her anyway,
her demons were hyenas lurking in shadows but her
round eyes were bright and she told me I was pretty and that, later, she'd flirt with me if it weren't against the rules.
I wanted to flirt with her, too. Make that brown bark flesh all flushed with a blush from the way we whispered sweet nothings with voices all hushed.
Oh, Carry-On.
Those blue hospital gowns wrapped around you, on that dark skin like the way a robins-egg hue clashed with the branches of a nest.
I remember how we sat with the same pain in our chests.  
I hope she's ok.
I hope she's still carrying on in the same way she did in that horrible place.

The heart unlocks any lock,
Beside time.
The key I lost,
I cannot find.

Pomegranate trees grow
The scent travelling across Babylon.
Of finer days they show,
Now deserts riddled with carion.

Listen to the echoes,
The mirage would say.
The path glows,
Save for the toll pay.

Sands golden,
Yet worthless; undesirable.
Tombs lay frozen,
A state most admirable.

In the center,
The silver stone hidden from sight.
Meant to render,
The hope to Fight.

Carpe Diem.

On an open field
they would land
magnificent godlike machines
like fortresses they would stand
as if built there by ancient kings
reaping profit off villagers’ toils

Shaped like cones
They were layered like ships
Having decks for each purpose
And openings
only where openings were needed

The top decks were ventilation
Huge propellers circulated the air
Also
They were used for steering
Like top mounted rutters and blades
Cutting the air
Allowing the crew to breathe
On the middle decks
Even when they went into space

The lowest deck held the great magnets
Powered by inductive force
A manually produced electricity
Enabling the ship to repel
Any surface on Earth or moon
And hover like a carion bird
Waiting for its prey to die

One day
There were hundreds in the sky
Magnificent temple like structures
A mystery how they would fly
But they ruled the air
Like gods
Wielding invisible fire
And reversing
The forceful pull from the Earth

In the streets
men would fall to their knees
in thousands
food and water would spoil
in minutes
infected
they did not have time to pray
before buildings would crumble
yet there was no fire
only a blast
and oblivion to follow

If I came back as a crow,
I would go and ask the
Bats, if I could join their
Nocturnal club, because
I would hate it if all the
other feathered species
were to call me a carion-
-igger, especially to my
beak after a fall of snow.

(˚>                                   >˚)

Dedicated to -
Vanessa Nakate who was
removed from a group photo
in Davos, she was the only
black person of five, including
Greta Thunberg.

This poem is meant to highlight
racism, I had no choice but write
is as is in order to make the point.