"fanon" poems - Hello Poetry

Of our years rises, thinly, ominously—profound. We Are flames holding tallow truths, keeping guard Over these sleeping futures. Grahamstown Rises in pylon energies. I levitate, Broomstick as afflatus, and galvanize The unsullied words of night. The virginal morning Comes in whispers. Earthworms dread the gawky Commuter. As students shout FeesMustFall, Billowing abdominal surges bawl as bitter abiku. These truths are milked from noted black holes, Where Fanon’s skins wipe the tears from the eyes. I Tremble, having anointed more than my restive hands. Hidden things are not the soul of the stars—somewhere, Somewhere over the mocked rainbow. Rains fall On stuffed human throats. And ours is to peck At the interstices of welt-ridden memory.

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Dec 22, 2015

Dec 22, 2015 at 9:09 AM UTC

stan-gichuki

The smoke

Of our years rises, thinly, ominously—profound. We Are flames holding tallow truths, keeping guard Over these sleeping futures. Grahamstown Rises in pylon energies. I levitate, Broomstick as afflatus, and galvanize The unsullied words of night. The virginal morning Comes in whispers. Earthworms dread the gawky Commuter. As students shout FeesMustFall, Billowing abdominal surges bawl as bitter abiku. These truths are milked from noted black holes, Where Fanon’s skins wipe the tears from the eyes. I Tremble, having anointed more than my restive hands. Hidden things are not the soul of the stars—somewhere, Somewhere over the mocked rainbow. Rains fall On stuffed human throats. And ours is to peck At the interstices of welt-ridden memory.

16

I was born on the tongue of the prophets. i was here before the profit. I never thought the money would ever stop it. spirit verses spit. Baraka versus nonsense. holocaust versus holocaust at what cost whose blood lost in God the dollar trust from Fanon to Fila Adidas to Allah we die with prayer beads in our palms store em in box so the leather never worn.

0

Nov 5, 2015

Nov 5, 2015 at 4:53 PM UTC

deztine-lorenza

Untitled

I was born on the tongue of the prophets. i was here before the profit. I never thought the money would ever stop it. spirit verses spit. Baraka versus nonsense. holocaust versus holocaust at what cost whose blood lost in God the dollar trust from Fanon to Fila Adidas to Allah we die with prayer beads in our palms store em in box so the leather never worn.

15

La vindicte bourgeoise assassinait mon nom Chinoisement, à coups d'épingle, quelle affaire ! Et la tempête allait plus âpre dans mon verre. D'ailleurs du seul grief, Dieu bravé, pas un non, Pas un oui, pas un mot ! L'Opinion sévère Mais juste s'en moquait autant qu'une guenon De noix vides. Ce bœuf bavant sur son fanon, Le Public, mâchonnait ma gloire... encore à faire. L'heure était tentatrice, et plusieurs d'entre ceux Qui m'aimaient, en dépit de Prudhomme complice, Tournèrent carrément, furent de mon supplice, Ou se turent, la Peur les trouvant paresseux. Mais vous, du premier jour vous fûtes simple, brave, Fidèle : et dans un cœur bien fait cela se grave.

0

379

Paul Verlaine

À Émile Blémont

La vindicte bourgeoise assassinait mon nom Chinoisement, à coups d'épingle, quelle affaire ! Et la tempête allait plus âpre dans mon verre. D'ailleurs du seul grief, Dieu bravé, pas un non, Pas un oui, pas un mot ! L'Opinion sévère Mais juste s'en moquait autant qu'une guenon De noix vides. Ce bœuf bavant sur son fanon, Le Public, mâchonnait ma gloire... encore à faire. L'heure était tentatrice, et plusieurs d'entre ceux Qui m'aimaient, en dépit de Prudhomme complice, Tournèrent carrément, furent de mon supplice, Ou se turent, la Peur les trouvant paresseux. Mais vous, du premier jour vous fûtes simple, brave, Fidèle : et dans un cœur bien fait cela se grave.

14