My country Nigeria,
Am a citizen by birth,
That’s the Criteria,
A blessed nation on the earth,
Driven by atrocities as bacteria,
A place I was proud to call home,
Am a negros and Nigeria is my home,
But she’s going down the pan,
Causing mortality in my clan.
Due to manifestos,
We commercialize with hoes.

It started with our independence,
We thought love would take
Prominence,
But rather war, corruption and coups,
And Tribalism feed on us


My plea goes to the world power,
Our corruption is taller than any tower,
Our leader convince us that colonization
Was necessary,
Seems we we have cross that boundary.

Please colonize us again,
Because decolonization has no gain,
Remove all these leaders,
The made us cry aloud to mothers.

I admit we weren’t ripe,
We just wanted to be free,
Like the smoke from papa’s pipe,
Please colonize us! At least
Of these situations we shall be free!

De-Colonize This Space

Drum circle protests genderplop demands
Indigenous discount store camouflage
We demand persistent stereotypes
Solidarity initiative project

Take back the people’s cultural statues
Ethnographic curatorial practices
Red spray paint fire imperialism
Repatriate the Iphone Starbuck’s cups

And don’t forget the “Hey! Hey! **! **!’
Because we’re, like, artists and stuff, you know?

2. De-Colonize This Space Too

Guns and cholesterol made America great
Fat white boys in discount store camouflage
Duct-tape the Bible and the border wall
We won our freedom with our Kalashnikovs

Fake news back-stabber not a war hero
SecondAmendmentSecondAmendment
Lock her up get ‘em outta here yuge deal
You RINO losers can grab my MAGA

You snowflakes are sissies, you millennials too
But ouch! my heel spurs hurt, oh boo-hoo-hoo!

on moonstone slab Manmata flames again
from out of ashes rises, gloating unfinality of Shiva's dance
reincarnate offering of endless Self
in Lakshmi's avatar
a fateful prince's heart to lance

and lanced his heart her visage did,
                                                     though with vaster pinions fully pierced was she, in depths
                                                          ­                                                                 ­                 without rivalry~

his lust was sharp to invite solitude,
but easy to conceal,
he imagined cupping her against him,
scoured memory of upward glimpse,
inch  by  inch
with added imagery, invention moulding her
beneath his grasp
from forehead curls along
glowing skin and eyes
to curving, palatially appareled ******* . . .
her open lips . . .  her hips
--but after, merely to dismiss
and even sleep a bit
and quip inside at irony
to be at mercy
of a girl in flowers
when he with arrows demons lay to rest
(though she would, within the selfsame hours lose her wits ;)

in cityscape descried the triad:
gold dome gifts for sky
in shining generosity
Mithila's people overflow with joy
exuding free abundance carelessly--
jewelry loosed on playful street
from overkeen embrace, is left to lie;
loss in ever-present wealth nigh obsolete

musth of elephant, froth of steed,
floral garlands tangle, line and mix
for clouds of honey-bees to lick their feast.
a bustling of virile acrobatic populace--
symphonic mux of chaos tressed,
metropolis of idylls coalesced;
drums, races, grinning faces flinging courtship,
smirking merchants under wigs
bathers splash exotic fish to flit and weave
while ballads sift for higher pitch of love

from elevated terrace ladies prance
and watching from an inner spire
the princess spies her prince--
emerald shoulders, lotus-petal eyes
Vaikunta hidden from their mortal sight
but straining recognition there,
a union ageless as the stars
inspired suddenly another first:
Rama's transfixed stare she feels and meets,
strangers locked entwining glances
--fated simultaneous-- electric heat   like
from a planet sparking for the taste of outer space --
the lightning burns its mark ensouled
in blooms beyond her ripe, anthophilous form,
verdant visions planted in the rays of light
between two instant loves
to slip inside the eyelid entrance
and evermore impregnate with a glory ill,
as separation wills,
to colonize throughout with other Being there
phantasmal yearnings of entrancing elegance
--from dawn of time instilled, akashic script
of binding hurt with joy in love's embrace
condemn desire to a writhing term
when not imbibing such togetherness
a worldless crypt preferred

and so as swift as gymnast flip to fall
the heart is gushing toxic lack,
epic ventricles the viscose tug
in fluid inspiration wrote of Sita's
sudden addict gnashing inner plight
while slips the sight interred within the crowd,
as if a sorcerer the cosmic sea to play her destiny:
the waves inside enraged to overwhelm
the sudden coral crust beneath the swell
an unmarked seaside's lavish drown unto the land
and reeling send this fragile ******
into wilting, her floral haze to drooping fell...
        in revelatory crash of passion's oceanic weight...
attendants pamper uselessly
--from swoon to mood irate
to wait until the next appearance of her mortal god
the only one to sate the shameless need
entwining up within a clenching wrack of milky fits
from bed to sweaty bed they take the burning maiden~
the outer sea inflow in calming dusk meant nothing to the agony of new romance
                       sequestered in hymenic fire, dawning brilliant
                                                       ­                                omni chakral pierce in rays,
                                                                ­                                                              tot­ality relentlessness
and therein descry a wholeness
  yet unregained
a hopeless birdsong careless as the wind
in caring strokes of pollen redolence
for forest ears an endless vibrate mate
of elemental ease the simmer float
upon the dukkha broil paths embroidery of karmic
cookery the godly recipe invoked,
gibed her without cease,
****** flare eternal guna coals to stoke
and spite her with their peace,
for her attainment only next to he
the moon communes the message blinding clear
amid the ghee her girls would light in care
to soften her despair -- but only aggravate her state --
and so by dim refracted moondrops set,
in only gemlight, Sita basks in pain
her gaze entrained by night obsessively
while overhead the crescent hook beams
freely in to fertilize her all-too-chastely girdle there,
petals wilting under body pressed to slab of stone
as mounting groan on groan intones her writhing questioning
of whomever he could be to cast her moaning so
a deity in maidenhead unwitting of such otherlife
left by endless, anthrocosmos' whim to ache, and alone
in wonder scream abandonment from aether poise
confusion reigning noisome nescient choice


















.

i tried to colonize
your vast expanse
running low on oxygen
still took a chance

too long in deep space
living in zero g's
your bones became brittle
spine lost rigidity

screaming into the vacuum
but never heard your plea
the sad old tales
of self loathing and pity

or maybe you always knew
it would fall on deaf ears
your stronger than you think
but crippled by fear

still trying to colonize
your vast expanse
poised for the moment
given the chance

Red dirt haunts the bottom of your boots
All of your curiosity cannot be contained in one suit
You will do the things most men dream of.
You will colonize a land unknown.
I asked you what your dream was
And you said you wanted to go to the stars above
Apparently Mars has always been your dream home
You want to colonize that red speck in the sky
And believe me, I know how good you can colonize
I mean you’ve already taken over my heart
Your footprints will stay there even if we were to part
Your words are more treasured artifacts in my chest
And so far I think I like them better than the rest
Stay on my planet for as long as you need to
I will help you here until Mars needs you
Use my poems as your rocket fuel
Keep them with you until they are useless
Let my hands be your shelter
Make my mind your control center
I will be whatever you need me to
Even after you’ve blasted off into the blue.

He looks like a rasta
Preaches no money only peace
But smokes no ****
He’s been sober all his life
Like he just got out of rehab
But doesn't mind if his friends smoke a couple trees
He breaks it down like a b-boy
That might of known Michael Jackson
Then belts out American country music
In the heart of Africa
Designs fashion making Europeans wonder
If they should colonize Africa again to get his resources.
Neo-colonization anyone?
He has small money
He lives poor
But lives rich
Has his own humble home
Like the adult he’s been since 15
And loves helplessly like he’s still 15
Despite the bruises the world continues to lash on his never aging soul.
Ohhh
Those bruises must hurt
But he’s trying to heal them with his art
He is an anomaly
Doesn’t fit here or there
But anomalies are perfectly normal
They choose to sit in there soul
Release truth that needs to be told
Because it’s only natural
Not fabricated
The fabricated
Really hates it.
The fabricated
Still takes a taste of it
Because they want that
Freedom
The fabricated
Watch in awe
They say no
You aren’t allowed to do that
That’s a contradiction
You’re a paradox
Social lines wont let you cross that.
Get back in line
Get back in line
Before we shoot you
Because we want your freedom too.
He’s been shot a couple times
I think his soul is his armor
But he lives in a human body
So you can imagine he’s not all that bullet proof.
Even if his body dies one day
I swear his soul will live on.
His freedom has no expiration date.

Crispin as hermit, pure and capable,
Dwelt in the land. Perhaps if discontent
Had kept him still the pricking realist,
Choosing his element from droll confect
Of was and is and shall or ought to be,
Beyond Bordeaux, beyond Havana, far
Beyond carked Yucatan, he might have come
To colonize his polar planterdom
And jig his chits upon a cloudy knee.
But his emprize to that idea soon sped.
Crispin dwelt in the land and dwelling there
Slid from his continent by slow recess
To things within his actual eye, alert
To the difficulty of rebellious thought
When the sky is blue. The blue infected will.
It may be that the yarrow in his fields
Sealed pensive purple under its concern.
But day by day, now this thing and now that
Confined him, while it cosseted, condoned,
Little by little, as if the suzerain soil
Abashed him by carouse to humble yet
Attach. It seemed haphazard denouement.
He first, as realist, admitted that
Whoever hunts a matinal continent
May, after all, stop short before a plum
And be content and still be realist.
The words of things entangle and confuse.
The plum survives its poems. It may hang
In the sunshine placidly, colored by ground
Obliquities of those who pass beneath,
Harlequined and mazily dewed and mauved
In bloom. Yet it survives in its own form,
Beyond these changes, good, fat, guzzly fruit.
So Crispin hasped on the surviving form,
For him, of shall or ought to be in is.

Was he to bray this in profoundest brass
Arointing his dreams with fugal requiems?
Was he to company vastest things defunct
With a blubber of tom-toms harrowing the sky?
Scrawl a tragedian's testament? Prolong
His active force in an inactive dirge,
Which, let the tall musicians call and call,
Should merely call him dead? Pronounce amen
Through choirs infolded to the outmost clouds?
Because he built a cabin who once planned
Loquacious columns by the ructive sea?
Because he turned to salad-beds again?
Jovial Crispin, in calamitous crape?
Should he lay by the personal and make
Of his own fate an instance of all fate?
What is one man among so many men?
What are so many men in such a world?
Can one man think one thing and think it long?
Can one man be one thing and be it long?
The very man despising honest quilts
Lies quilted to his poll in his despite.
For realists, what is is what should be.
And so it came, his cabin shuffled up,
His trees were planted, his duenna brought
Her prismy blonde and clapped her in his hands,
The curtains flittered and the door was closed.
Crispin, magister of a single room,
Latched up the night. So deep a sound fell down
It was as if the solitude concealed
And covered him and his congenial sleep.
So deep a sound fell down it grew to be
A long soothsaying silence down and down.
The crickets beat their tambours in the wind,
Marching a motionless march, custodians.

In the presto of the morning, Crispin trod,
Each day, still curious, but in a round
Less prickly and much more condign than that
He once thought necessary. Like Candide,
Yeoman and grub, but with a fig in sight,
And cream for the fig and silver for the cream,
A blonde to tip the silver and to taste
The ***** gouts. Good star, how that to be
Annealed them in their cabin ribaldries!
Yet the quotidian saps philosophers
And men like Crispin like them in intent,
If not in will, to track the knaves of thought.
But the quotidian composed as his,
Of breakfast ribands, fruits laid in their leaves,
The tomtit and the cassia and the rose,
Although the rose was not the noble thorn
Of crinoline spread, but of a pining sweet,
Composed of evenings like cracked shutters flung
Upon the rumpling bottomness, and nights
In which those frail custodians watched,
Indifferent to the tepid summer cold,
While he poured out upon the lips of her
That lay beside him, the quotidian
Like this, saps like the sun, true fortuner.
For all it takes it gives a ****** return
Exchequering from piebald fiscs unkeyed.

"And now please welcome today's anti-terrorism speaker, Anonymous!"

[anonymous applause, dwindling out]

"Thanks, everyone. The reason I prefer anonymity should be self-evident, but just to make it clear, I wish to avoid the recrimination of the hostile element."

"Before I got here I was just reading, and believe me I'm still not believing, but it would seem, on the whole, that planetary aggression is on the slow."

A hand is raised
A hand is ignored
The speaker moistens his lips
Prepared to emit a bit more.

"I have stats and stories
Tortuous anecdotes about little girls and boys
Food and sanitation is a crime itself
And I'm prepared to say we live in our own hell."

Arms upheld wither down
As new hands reach for attention
But the speaker ignores them all
Intent on his own presentation.

"The reason for hate
Is more or less clear
We fiercely believe one thing
As they devoutly believe another.

But do not fear!
We are right and they are wrong
They saddle their own children with a death song
No cartoons of basic morality
Just legs with bombs
Made to go off remotely."

An angry rustle
Amidst lowered hands
Quieting now
Like they're getting the hang of it.

"Humans are robots
Programmable, malleable and sometimes trustworthy
Highly complicated machinery!
Indoctrination is the virus
That seeks to destroy the outside."

Again the raised hands
And eyebrows too
All these fluttering robots
Fluttering in a pseudo-free zoo.

Ignoring the obvious
The speaker plods onwards
But modulates his voice
Against their trained reactions.

"We need to accept and enfold
An ideology only thousands of years old
To mutate and twist
Into what our children might wish."

Someone yells "Disney!"
Another mutters "Black whiteys"
But there are a few
Who remain to hear it through.

"Despite what you think
Despite who you are
Against all you've been taught
We've come quite far.

You may not know your son
You may not know your daughter
But leave them alone
And tomorrow may happen.

Put the guns aside
Drink from your hidden bottles without shame
You are who you are
And you should let them be them."

This is not what anyone wanted
Anyone over the age of ten
This is not what anyone wanted
With children and the urge to brainwash them.

The room trickles out
Leaving the most devout
Devoted to the future
Any future left standing.

But amidst this group
Are hard-liner elements
And one has a voice
Cutting through it all
To ask, "What about bomber babies?"

And riding right on top
Is a fat slobbery Republican fop
Demanding in his self-entitled way
"What the **** about America?"

The speaker shrugs
As if to indicate
Which question
Is more stupid.

"We seek to leave the planet
And develop tech to make it happen
You go your way
And we go ours."

The room is smaller now
They indulge in eye contact
Personal communications
Words, hands, heads and eyebrows.

The speaker sighs
As if on the cusp of absolute honesty
Then spills his true guts
To these few radicals and emissaries:

"Our worst enemy is ourselves
Through millennia fashioning our own hells
Subjugation of non-prominent DNA
Believing destruction will pave the way.

But on a not-much larger scale
We're just cheap entertainment
For every other race
That crawled up this hill."

The crowd is slightly subdued
Probably more from shame
Than anything
Because shame is in the DNA
And experienced by everyone.

But we can always rely
On some fat Republican to decry
"But not me!
And for sure not my children!"

And now even more file out
Hearts emptied and minds afloat
Now it's just the sweating speaker
And a few odd haters.

"We're a microbial phenomenon
Miraculously still alive
And still inept
At staying alive."

He waves a casual hand like a maestro
And behind him the stage glows
A 30x30 screen descends
Illuminating bugs as they crawl.

"We're slightly smarter
But no more hardier
Than Hymenoptera
Except we can leave this planet."

Red-faced and obviously insulted
The old fat plushy storms out
Leaving now just a few
To adopt this future-flung view.

"We need to terraform and colonize
Sure, and design space suits
Pleasing to the eye
But ultimately,
We need to get the hell gone."

One clap, one frown
The speaker shrugs
As if wondering
Why aren't we all gone?

And so he is left
With the clean-up crew
And one fruitcake
Who asks
"Will God come with us?"

Persia,
The land of God,
Where God stayed in person,
As he traversed desert sand dunes to Irag,
To have a look at rivers Euphrates and Tigris,
When Adam had just finished playing the first human ***,
With Eve, the non ****** companion he gave him,
He then meted out to them eternal nemesis
Out of his anger and selfish jealous,
Other-wise what was wrong,
For Adam to have a ****,
With the unclothed eve,
Any answer please,
Or no please,
Persia,

Persia Now is Nuked,
A nuclearized oil exporter,
She has a Koran, oil-wells and Nuclear,
She also has no-nonsense masculine Arabic culture,
****** grounds in which mushrooms the messy Islamic soup,
Blessed and Glorified by my good ****** brother; Barrack Obama,
Who was once God and sent the inverse of angel Michael to Laden Osama,
To impregnant the ****** mother of death that sired laden’s demise,
Game in which Obama dwarfs Netanyahu a global dweeb,
Left on a wrong inglenook in a dwaal at Jerusalem fire,
Biasly blessing the Israeli Nuclear and Hydrogen bombs,
As security of the world, and condemning Iran,
Calling their Kosher Nuclears a threat,
To the israelized world security,
But his Gaza **** is not,
His refuge camps
Are not

Blessed are the Nuclear stuffs of Persia,
They are blessings of Allah to those that are guided,
Maunderings of the jackanapes like Netanyahu is not news,
For he has more nuclear in Jerusalem, hydrogen bombs too he has,
Then arming Persia must a usual game of violence not anything of his sort,
For  they are Koran, the nuclear, the oil wells, and the woman,
That will frame up the Islamic state to stable counterzionism,
To stave mania of European Jews for settlerism
To eat what they deserve un¬¬-rapaciously,
To at least breed homespun respect,
For those that differ with them
In faith and skin
Like afro-persians


Persia,
Your nuclear stuffs,
Are blessed and glorified,
For they are counter-apartheid,
To the Zionist apartheid in Palestine,
They are acts that resemble the acts in the past,
By those that oppressed, colonize, imperialize for settlerism,
For a line in Shakespeare’s king Lear has some blessings for you;
The un-armed (Arabs) provokes (Israeli) enemy’s attack,
Thus reality of equal nuclear mighty and strength
Will nurse thought for de-imperialism
Sense of respect and discipline,
By those who belong to God,
To those who don’t,

Who Bombed Charlie Hebdo?
And what of the Yankee Twin Towers?
Was it Al Qaeda or the Israelis, can I blab or not?
O, there were also Nuclear stuffs in De Klerk’s White South Africa,
But when blackness came to corridors of power, the nukes followed color,
What of what I was dreaming yester night? About Netanyahu,
He ployed for the European hatred against Islamic statesmen,
He bombed Charlie Hebdo, masquerading as an Arab,
For European war on Islamic state to intensify,
Then it intensified, but God only knew,
The truth; Islamic statesman are only mouthy,
But foolish in war and offense,
They didn’t bomb
Charlie Hebdo,

Boris Nemetsov,
A Russian speaking Jew,
Was shot dead in Moscow,
(RIP) Boris, for the human soul must die,
Death and grave is the kismet for us the living,
But why were you weak as a post hatch cackling hen,
To make noise and preen around as a jade in the land of fox,
The African sisal fox that ate all the Crimean chicken,
Noise of a hen cannot fetter fox’s appetite,
Noise of a hen cannot shake culture,
Of Nuclear power in Iran and Korea N,
Why live in Russia, but you love Israeli?
I don’t need the answer dudes,
But always oppression
the oppressor always
it kills,

Alexander  Khamala Opicho
Lodwar ,  Kenya

I blew away the seed head on my dandelion flower so that it could blow away and possibly colonize the soil and make a new.
I found it on a particularly hot autumn day. I was walking around
enjoying my self. The sights, the smells, then my eyes found you.
I was reluctant at first to approach... but I decided to test my luck.

See it's a certain technique you have to have with these things
be too hard and well... you'll lose it all. It'll all go away.
Be too soft and you won't get anywhere and have your
time wasted and still risk losing it.
But with just the right amount of force you can have it
hold it right there in your hands.
Luckily for me I was always good with my
hands, so my prize was that I could claim you
just temporarily as my own.
I proceeded with my day, still with you by my side.
Finally, made it home.
I put you by the window in vase. I can be a bit
airy so it quickly came to my attention that every time the wind blew
I could lose you, I could have it all gone, taken away.
One day the window jammed and had to stay down,
I though to myself ok great, I won't lose you now
but then a new threat raised... the **** opening and
closing of the door.
I moved it to my room where there was
no sunlight, no wind, just space.
But oddly this thing just didn't like it there,
it was a true wildflower and had to have
it's way.
So I let it. Besides I went through this
much trouble so far.
Time went on and day by day the fascination of my
catch dwindled.
I could tell my time with it was coming to an end
so of course one last hooray was in order!
It was loads of fun, I relished in my victory.

I blew away the seed head on my dandelion flower so that it could blow away and possibly colonize the soil and make a new.
I found it on a particularly hot autumn day. I was walking around
enjoying my self. The sights, the smells, then my eyes found... and I bet you never knew that this poem was about you.

the social pace manic in its self-absortion, possession facing possession and what if
the world risks collapsing under the weight of its own irony:
a hedonic frame of mind so devoid of the ******* of life
the tyranny of desire is teaching **** to the naked eyes
a culture stops breathing if it can't let go of its desires to find them again
nothing to be destroyed cause everything is dismantling slowly

going right or left it's the same but not in any corner of the world
the leftovers of God, tautologies in a straightjacket,
cause one has meetings all day but no sleep all night
He/She/They colonize you with the scripture of profit
everything has its price on the expence of being enlivened
some don't have water, others too much of an illusion
some don't have peace, others have haute couture
some haven't eaten, others have molecular cuisine
some have the shelter of the sky, others listen to the echo of Big Bang
this logic of contrast is dreaming of the creativity of decay and
what if politics has become a narcosis, a  drunkenness of words,
while the wisdom of trauma is hidden in billboards,
the text says Politics of Happiness or Diserotica

the depressive society fools itself with the financial ****** of disconnected bodies in search of the last noise of the day
the space of the mind  broken by narrow horizons
the flesh and bone might turn into a virtual dimension

yet
the soul of the world flickers, it covers its solar plexus until we meet again as brothers and sisters of the trees
just because you feel good doesn't mean that
the world feels good too

This is for those of you that are hopelessly addicted to deeper meanings...
Where you examine the steps you take in the day under a microscope to see
the cracks scrambling restlessly up your legs to find your weak spot.
Your **** of aroused curiosity can only be stimulated via
lightning struck snowy powders dripping gently down your throat and tickling your brain-stem
until you laugh at the crows poking their heads in your back pockets.
They burn holes in your suicidal tendencies like kids playing with matches
for the first time behind the shed.
When your **** gets hard from the fire burning too close to your retinas and
enflaming the world as you knew it, charred and raining ash on the dead roses
that you planted and forgot to water.
**** them, these pilgrims of anxiety crawling across your arms like
stranded orphans in the desert, where the nearest well is spiked with adrenaline aged in
a dying cactus.
Wow you are dark tonight..
As if the dandelion seeds you set free flew back and tried to choke you.
Where are the heart tickling epiphanies now?
Sitting out on break and blowing cigarette smoke into nearby passing baby strollers?
I am not expecting you to like this.
I am just a deluded witch doctor dissecting your brains and attempting to pry out the tumors.
Like an excommunicated jedi knight using his mind to strike flint together.
The sparks smile and dance like college kids on ecstasy, not quite realizing that they are drowning in the undertoe.
They revel in the nostalgic numbness.
Only an IV of sweet lime juice can sustain such wilted leeches.
When lacking in vitamins, your skin is a papyrus to bury under the nile, and
watch from the hills as kids of 2100 and later search for WiFi to connect their burnt out forebrains to.
Coughing up several old moth eaten sweaters that you stuffed away
when your new girlfriend came over.
We hide our pasts like kilos under the coca cola shipments, and no matter
how far you ride the rails, the rats still nest and chew apart the cables that
keep the whole train locked together.
And why is it that we secrete our secrets in our sweat, and cover it up with
cheap deodorants?
Our catch-phrases mask the stagnant breath of our restless nature.
Humans, the bugs in our systems trying so hard to shout out to us that we don't really exist.
Thoughts as fragile as smoke could never support our weight if we chose to
colonize the moon and dig for diamonds in her eyes.
We may find that our stain-glassed windows keep out most of the light, while
preaching to keep our eyes closed and heads held close to the ground.
The civilized dances we partake are only nervous ticks of robotic
drones drilled on overtime.
And we think that these words useless, like grains of sand to let trickle out of your hands.
Our words mean nothing!
Even though you might have felt something in the last five minutes as these
black scarabs have peeled away at your comprehension.
You paint pictures with only black and blue and expect
fresh tongues to offer you green and purple instead.
But how can you expect anything other than the bruises you beat into the walls.
Like magnets on strike, you expect the world to just "let it go."
But I'm not about to rely on that weaker force to guide us.
The paths of unprecedented unraveling is where we are heading.
Where gravity is so pre-"concious-cocreation" and the last street light alive
will keep on whispering its salty sentiment.
You and I are not so different, although we profess to keep our distance
and fear too long of eye contact, as if a moment of silent connection
triggers the virus warnings and ***** up your downloads.
****..
All I wanted was a light-hearted comedy and all you had stocked up in your
dvd cabinet was a bunch of black and white ***** films.
You said the dark side makes you appreciate the light, but every night i hear
those last beaten breaths, limping across the dark hallway with their fingertips sliding
quietly along the walls.

The teacher dies having made her small contribution
to the colonization of other planets by motivating
a boy who would otherwise be a coal miner to become
a rocket engineer.
                                  Throughout the nation teachers
are sending their prize pupils through the funnel
flask to produce technology from pure science.
The mother and father are good, disciplined, god-
fearing people who stand firm against dissolution
and chaos. They hold their clod of soil in place
and others do the same to create the landscape
of community.
                            Communities across the nation
and the world produce the many to support the few
who make the tools and do the math to colonize
the planets. Once the secret of warp speed is
discovered, expansion of the species is
limitless.
                   Perhaps it is not a direct contribution
to destiny, yet some stories may be told
for centuries.
                         It takes constantly renewed
consciousness to persevere, retell the stories
and interpret lessons. You go, girl.

“That’s so high school,” they say.
“What are you, fifteen?” they ask.
But why?
I call them battle wounds,
And you’ve always hated that.
But why?
What we do in bed is who we are
Let me carve valleys into your back
With my sharpened fingers.
Puncture my legs with your jagged nails
Until I stain the ocean dark, dark black.
Claw, bite, rip, tear, gnaw
Your way to my heart.
Take it in your mouth and crunch down,
Until we mix into one. Until we are.
What were we?
Friends, acquaintances, lovers, enemies, strangers,
It doesn’t matter anymore. Now we’re one.
I will leave whatever marks on you I can,
Be they out of love and passion.
I will colonize your skin, make my home in
Every pore and crevice.
I will mark what is mine in that moment,
Out of fear that you will be gone tomorrow.
Do the same to me. Make me yours.
Strip my identity from my bones,
Replace my flesh with you, with us, with this.
Your friends’ lovers don’t leave marks like that?
Your friends don’t know how to love like I do.
We are what we do in bed,
and I leave marks.

They call you "woman"
Though you probably are just shy
You are only about fourteen
When a nation is sewn into your womb
The white men, they will call you exotic
Call your brothers savages
As they pin you to a tree
And colonize the nest below your belly
They will imperialize your body
Annex your ******
Because they can
They are above you, after all
Yet you are still looking ahead
So eloquent while under attack
Why is **** suddenly beautiful
When it is a weapon of war?
Why do we normalize
The abuse of women with brown skin?
Not pain, just literature
So darling, I am so sorry
For what my brothers, for what my ancestors
Did to you
I am so sorry that the war on your body
Is why I am standing on your homeland
Though the skin of my relatives was not on American soil
Until two hundred years later
My blood was never shed on that dirt
Anyone who came here after you
Has hands covered in red
Flash forward three hundred years
These white men whose forefathers
Made a throne for their heirs inside of you
Are accusing other brown-skinned people
Of being terrorists
Of being rapists
Did we really forget that quickly?
They will wage war for my body
Because it lacks pigment
But they will ignore
That they are the ones committing the crime.
Every time a brown person is deported
Every time we vote for someone
Who spews bile when they speak
Every time we accuse immigrants
Of advancing our **** problem
We are slicing your children from your insides
Marvelous woman
Each nation you birthed is under attack
Every time we attack another nation
Our hands are covered in red.

Green, stringbean bodies.
  Neon skin, the color of
a lime being crushed
  underneath a heel.

Tell me about earth,
  I could hear the voice
in my head. Like a
  radio being crumbled
up into a ball and
  thrown into my
train of thought.

Earth?

Yes, Earth. Tell us about it.

Us?

There are forty-million listening.

Oh. Well, Earth. Earth. Earthy-Earth.
  Earth is full of humans, like me.
People. Humans are people.
  And people are hell.
In No Exit, there are these--

We've read No Exit.

You've read No Exit?

We've read everything humanity
has published, in a matter of
  m o m e n t s.
You aren't as developed as you
seem to think you are.

What was the best thing you read?

We were partial to
Last Exit to Brooklyn.
Now, back to our question:
tell us about Earth.

If you've already read everything,
why do you need to ask,
let alone ask me?

You are the most
insignificant person
on this planet.
We are interested
in your thoughts.

I'm insignificant?

Yes.

Oh. I see.
Earth... Well, people...
People are beautiful.
The Earth is beautiful.
What makes us gorgeous
is our growth and our
desire to progress.
What makes us dazzling
is our belief that
a collective happiness and
an individual happiness
is both attainable
and sustainable.
Now, **** me
and annihilate
my planet, already.
That's why you're here,
right?

No. We're here to
harvest your women
and to colonize
everyone else.
You just persuaded us
to breed with your women.

But, that's ****.
And colonizing?
That's slavery.

We've read everything
your planet has ever written.
**** and slavery has been
encouraged on your planet
since your brief breath of
e x i s t e n c e.

It runs diagonal
across the back of my neck,
three inches long,
maybe a bit longer
and it tingles
when I get the orders
from the mother ship,
strange voices buzzing,
an unknown language
telling me to wait,
to wait for their return,
to revolutionize,
to colonize this world.

The visiting professor
Said that cryptoendoliths live in rocks

They colonize the structural cavities
Found in particularly porous types
Of rocks

And when NASA sent their Mars lander
To Antarctica
To look for life
They couldn’t find it
Because it was hiding
In rocks

You raised your hand and asked him “How?
How can they live like that?
Cut off from the sun
Cut off from the outside world
Cut off from everyone else
Living inside (and not just under)
A rock?”

Well,
Probably the same way you do

Yours is the haze my friend
& all that is within it confined.
Yours is a lush pink haze
leaden with rotting hope,
with amethysts and emeralds
of fear and caution encrusted.
Damp to the feel and on your face
Nurturing your peace and surrender
as they grow and colonize like fungi
parasitic and spore forming... contagious
they gnaw at your spirit with false contentment, my friend.
Yours is the haze and all it harbors
of lush stupidity and gullible naive comfort.
yours is a web of intrigue, woven by your senses
and calcified by your precious mind.
but blame not your mind, it was merely following orders
obeying authority, your Ego's authority
for your ego is your shepherd and you my friend
you are the one sheep in his flock.
A sheep, lowly, & sickly but this sickness is subclinical
and it comes with an insidious onset.
And you my friend,
you are doomed to relapse again and again.
Be assured, it is a sickness
and it spews from your gentle mouth
with a painstaking stink.

Not long ago your ego was just like you.
not a shepherd, you were both young
smooth skinned and pampered,
breathing in knowledge and breathing out gaiety.
Cubs, equal in status and in innocence;
your paws were smaller then and your claws were blunt
and the sweetest taste was of your mother's milk.
Now power seems much more tempting
safety and stability are all the more precious
and your ego gorges on all...
It grows and swells with the blood and guts of its prey.
Thus trapped you shall remain my friend
so long as your ego's web comforts your spirit
and change startles it, makes it run, flee
it scatters and cowers behind cardboard walls
drapes, silk curtains and the smoke of a burning life.
Stay there my friend, for as long as you find comfort
but when it bores you or numbs you,
don't delay and don't hesitate
Ask for my help, For I am your true Self.

With ever-bounding enthusiasm, an enthralled, elated group of people embarked,
Not to visit a vast, vibrant land, but to colonize a capacious continent,
Imperial insatiability was inferred upon imagining an inventive future,
Latent with lustful leering upon the land, we, yes we, left for liberty.

With eyes of fire, souls of greed, arms of thunder,
We filched their land, stole their food, killed their eagle,
We shattered their culture, scorned their ways, and dared to call them savages,
We drenched our freedom-land, with the blood of natives.

We are the land of the brave in a prose penned by a poet,
Being brave we brutally butchered, under the guise of our liberty,
Barbarous is our embellished bravery; reckless is the loss of life,
A lost liberty echoes with the laughter of the ghosts of irony.

In a ****** battlefield lies dead our liberty, once free, once brave,
Imprisoned in a stunning story of sorrow, liberty shall we never know?
Freedom foregone is never forgotten, simply a freed freedom,
The bravery lost was passed to the savage souls we seized in the name of liberty.

This clade of “tree”
if  you can believe that
! That this is   what   the
...      silversword alliance technically are.
It's closely related              tarweed...


The first **** wasn’t lonely for long and had
multiple terrains to colonize.
& tall tales take solidified liquid form
from the something
making water like fire
or air we can’t see floating like ice.
Pushed in a away a tsunami
seem small as they cross over the ocean.

Only they roar
louder then anything heard, but a drip
silenced lost lost
to deaf ears
empty troughs of the dunes  
soft sand triumphing over the oceans.


The four subclades within the crossing times
sowed their alliance,
silversword are the tall tales
detail of long ago seemingly insignificant kept
life form, form life , forms
forms life

we know because it’s indistinguishable from the rest.  

probabilities estimates Vertical
no horizontal or dashed lines.
Bound by the ' it was', see.
we are to the way we
were. Read the possible
probability of a tale, A tale  

of a tall tale. Told.
Origination, will, times. They tell,
seconds per island
complex (from left-to-right:
Kaua‘i, O‘ahu, Maui Nui, Hawai‘i).

The mental capacity to carry on with the daily grind of modern mayhem slowly ebbs from view.

A hardened psyche is in the throws of disarray , dilapidates like a forgotten building in an overgrown forest.

Slowly the bugs creep in, they're the first of many to colonize this quietening storm.

Each inhabitant feeding on a memory, on a loving thought of youth.

As trees swallow concrete, the chill of numb nonchalance spreads as a disease, each and every part of relevance becoming so much more irrelevant.

Those time consuming chores that dictated, lost forever, a blank stare replaces, eyes that see straight through to another side.

To hold on would be a punishment, to relinquish is to hold the key to the gates of purgatory.

You can hear the wheels slowly turn as they now etch the sound of silence, when they stop and the madness begins when shall the twist of fate turn to a tapered end.

It's winter and the birds have not flown south, a great freeze as fresh nature grows all around , sensory deception for muted perception.

Before too long it will be too late to disturb the disturbance and rationalize with faith, with the heart of certainty this meaningless shall cease, the way ahead will be forged by my hand, I will not fall by the wayside of incoherence,

I will not return

And I will not let my sanctuary burn

I'm fighting grind-split tooth and peeled nail
Against all my selves I call other.
Veiling mortal wounds with gossamer,
I claim romantic identities
Falsely, with sinister abandon.

Coiling ever inward and away,
I withdraw me from poor reflections;
From glaring eyes betrayed and pooling
Tar melting down from scorched railroad ties
Strewn alongside deserted highways.

I run again home to a cold box:
Fluorescent orange light grating down eyes
To dull accessories, who abet
Escape to asylum in wombing
Safety of echoing monologue.

Reason rides to mind a snake oil savior
To colonize my nobler instincts.
Blood-choked and complacent, I'll deny
My proudest breaths were spent defending
Glass towers of an empty castle.

Rend all your erstwhile double-tongued pharaohs.
Cast out inner sycophantic slaves.  
Lay civil barriers to ruin.
Surrender to grave knowledge of self.

Introduction before the curtain is opened.
-->The  introducer addresses the audience.


Instead of none-stop
Condemning the past
Let us do our part
To lift our country
From economic morass fast.
Better than licking a wound,
Taking corrective measures
On former leaders’ mistakes
We could
Capitalizing, on what
They did good.

(Open Curtain)

--> Enters Emperor Tewodros II

I had tried
Citizens to unite
So that
They will not
Stop short of might
When invaders they fight!

I had also exemplified
Portraying a spectacular
Self dignity and pride
Whatever sacrifices
Trying times demand,
A coward,
An Ethiopian must not
Yield a hand.


To convey
I had also tried,
Though possible
As a tourist,explorer and
Even a covert spy
To enjoy oneself in
Ethiopia, famed for
A hospitable land
The impossibility
To carry away with
A shoe
Ethiopia’s golden
Silt or a sand.


--> Enters Emperor Yohannes IV



In the battle of Gundat
And Gura
I had shuttered
Egyptians' and Khedivi’s
And their Europian advisers'
And North Americans' aura.

Revolted by
A scramble for domestic power
Or salivating for wealth
And abhorring
Stooping to things glittering,
Defending my country
And faith
Valorous, on the forefront
Of a battle
I did shake hands
With the angel of death.


Successors,
There are lessons
You should learn
Adoring your country
Rent seeking
You have to shun,
Putting my country first
A notable self sacrifice
As I had done!


--> Enters Emperor Menelik II


Simply with
A sword and a spear
Carrying a shield
And riding a horse,
I did chase out
To its teeth
With modern weapon
Armed invading force.

When citizens
Join force and unite
With a golden pen
History they can write
History that flickers light
The oppressed,worldwide,
Could win if they fight
For their
God-bestowed right.

Also to modernization
According focal attention
Must be the task of
A given nation
If ignorance and disease
Their tight grip
Must cease.


--> Enters Emperor Haile selassie I

When many warned me
“You will live to regret
Your good gesture!”
To the development of
My country giving
Focal attention
I allowed students pursue
Further education.

I  also allowed many  here
And   abroad a broad-array of
Subjects learn
And their poor country
Serve in their turn.

A prophet
I exposed League of Nation's
Double standard
So that
The world understand
“Though today
Ethiopia’s turn
The flame of fascism
And ******
Tomorrow
Supper powers too will burn!”
It was my wont
In the diplomatic mission
To bring
My country to the front!

Along with fellow leaders,
It was my dream object,
To de-colonize
And unite the continent.

That is why many
Saw for a continental seat
—OAU later AU—
Ethiopia fit.

--> President Mengistu Haile Mariam

As revolution
Was the day’s talk
With the progressive
I broke
On peasants and
The proletariat
Imposed yoke.

Sied Barre’s
Unexpected attack
And intrusion
I had managed
To reverse back,

Also fighting
Mass illiteracy
Was my
Outstanding task.

In fact,
I did try to keep
My country intact.

-->Prime Minister Meles Zenawi

My long-cherished bent
Was ensuring
Political pluralism
And democracy’s advent
For which cause
My youth and adulthood
I spent.

I and combatants
After tyranny
To a grave sent,
I invited
Soon,
Marginalized states
To come aboard and
Equally enjoy
Development’s boon.

In an astounding
Developmental feat
I was out
The unconquerable

—Blue Nile—

To defeat.
Also against poverty
A similar victory repeat.
What is more
On the road
Of Renaissance
I did inspire
Over 80 ethnic group
Forward to run
Actualizing a leap in
Their life span.

A win-win
Environment smart growth
Was what,charismatic,
On the global arena
I brought forth
Making super powers believe
Giving attention to Africa
Is worth.

--> Prime Minister Hailemariam Desalegn

In trying times
Not to allow
Started mega projects
Suffer a set back
I saw to
Things are on the right track.

More than one cabinet reshuffle
In  the leading party
Deep renewal and reform,
Together with  members,
I did perform!

To a peaceful power transition
I have set a glaring example
A move
In Africa many took unthinkable!
Averse to rent seeking
I am patted on the back
“You have done a nice thing!”


(Close Curtain)

--> Introducer

Conspiracy
To grab the rein
Of power
At the cost of harm
Allowing one ethnic group
On others to tower
Sluggishness in resource
Utilization, not allowing
Development to equally
And fast flower,
Harbouring fright
When citizens exercise
Their allowed democratic right
Are follies
The coming generations
Have to fight
So that
Ensues peace
And days bright,
Off springs of Lucy
We have to always unite!///

With our colonize wide open
we see that these
are not standard issues
Their mortifier brigades stomp
in death march madness
And we while cannot avoid the
genocide ways glances
of iron eyed code stalkers
Our very lives
stand as evidence
that we have endured

Today that disc of life, when in the east it rose
I found it a little more ominous, its end a little too close.
You don’t seem to mind it, maybe you don’t at all care
The object that makes your day, won’t be forever there.
Today it lends a friendly halo, shines bright on your homely turf
It won’t be like this for all the time, when it turns a white dwarf.
You find it nothing worrisome, too faraway to be any omen
That it is silently wearying itself out, burning up its hydrogen.
The blinding luminous ball, at which your eyes can’t gaze
Has still billions years to bow out, and halfway through its phase.
So what’s there to worry, the end is too longtime yet
Generations will come and go, before reaching destiny’s date.
But still the issue is something that deserves a serious plan
It involves a grave consequence, for the future of human clan.
Where will be our habitat, when dies our star of stars
When earth becomes inhabitable, will our abode be Mars?
For it will be billion years more the fireball will hold there out
Of all the planets the best bet, is our brethren Mars no doubt.
So maybe before our star burns out, we seek out another shore
Colonize the red planet in the sky, also called the planet IV.
An entire civilization will shift there, an enormous migration
Carrying with them love and hatred, all the human emotion.
They’ll make Mars another Earth, in a strange way I feel
We’ll not leave behind human divide, the inequity’s evil
Our boundaries and walls of color of skin, stigma of racial curse
Will they be all carried with us, transported to the new home Mars?

When the shadows overtake me
I hope my throat is already slit.

/MERCY.

I've learned by now
That fast and painless
Is a concept of fiction.

It wouldn't matter
If you were to tear out my heart
Or rip out my spine,
It's all death just the same.

If you choose to take my life,
Don't take mercy into consideration,
Because mercy has been long lost
On those already rotting
In the graves dug in their minds.

/CONSUMPTION.

Peace from the darkness
Has taken the shape
Of your hand on the goblet,
With all my absolution taking the form
Of your loving embrace.

Let's build up our legions,
Show them the light in our gospel,
And convert them to our truth...

Such a beautiful proposition,
If we could work it out ourselves.

Wash over me with your holy sermon.

Let me absorb all your light.

Reconstruct all my arrogance
Upon the backs of the broken,
Just for the rare opportunity
For such a picture perfect landscape.

Monarchy never looked so stunning.

/EMPIRE.

Drowning is becoming an art.

Deeper and deeper
Into the depths do I venture,
All the while indifferent
To my lack of oxygen.

I'm plugging in plot holes.

I'm re-founding Byzantium,
And all for the iconography
That has left me
In such a state of marvel.

I don't want compromise
Or pity of any sort.

I just want you in tidal waves,
And to get pulled deeper
Beneath the whole of your personality.

In a modern world
So short on imperialism
Why was it so easy for you
To colonize my heart?

/TRANSLATION.

For the first time in years,
I need no translation.

I speak clearly, openly,
And without filtration.

She both listens and hears,
And that's not even the beginning
Of her infinite positive traits.

She's a modern masterpiece,
So above modern art.

I want to dissolve into her brilliance
If for even a moment.

/RECOIL.

I have nothing to fear.

I am the God of Death...
I am the shadows
That haunt even the deepest corners
Of my recuperating mind.

I'm gaining back the strength
To show the world once more,
That there are better, truer
Forms of evil in our control.

I am the culmination
Of the lives I have taken,
And now I choose to never
Be frightened by fate again.

I am the God of Death,
And now I choose to live.

i thought of ants and how they colonize
and remembered the importance of my breath.
offset the thinning path
were pink and purple blossoms.
blue jays appeared to
keep the cardinals mindful
while the thaw of spring dispelled
the white curse of winter.
i watched their dance on broken twigs
and their consciousness budding forefront,
i thought about the importance to their dance
and forgot about my breath.

masses of aluminum color
regarded my need for space.
offset the flattened tar,
my chains churned in earnest
while synthetics fought the earth and
purple blossoms danced in their own way.
i am guilty of fighting in that war,
guerrilla tribes of rubbered feet,
propelled by accepting neglect.
these bodies are filled with meters
to measure varying complications,
none of which are relevant in our time.
but still i continued to fight and dance
and remember my need for breath
while the jays and cardinals
danced amongst the pink and purple blossoms

budding full of consciousness,
disregarding our foolish guerrilla fight.