I hate
you that I love you this web of such catastrophic attraction; eyes so cherry or
blue or horizon rainbow green; this man those years so secluded in ghettoes or
so adventurous in Valleys; accursed and midnight blue or rued and sunshine
yellow at something terrific a quadroon daughter; fuchsia reigns or mud-drop lakes
a toad a frog a lime green grasshopper; our days and dates our pillaging and
patience as freed and unbelieved; or mahogany passion so alert to European song
at something a mirror and losing grayness; such color tones such womb
tenderness at loses and un-reprieved such restless internal gavels; our ocean
reflection this jury in there or this canine barking dramatically; to reach for
this face or to drown in this reaching where a sudden wisdom vanishes into a
different essence. I love you to hate you this furnace of depleted screams
those alms those nuns this tragic dream if but to live as again such clarity or
daft for dumb and so numb to complexion; this wild exclamation where one is
void of being human while Europeans adore chocolate queens; indeed, it gets
better, this mulatto trying his charms, and gods to angelica this arrival in
something uncalculating. Our ghetto blue fires our tales of black to grit and
nothing more where tender white flesh speaks adoringly; this color wheel this
soft black woman as never a thousand dollar rose; our myrtle in autumn our
cypress in spring where a European bought her entire family gifts for Christmas.
Herewith, this island of feelings to believe in sexual creation where most are
having scientific bestial fun. This wake of demons this sensory screaming where
a true agent becomes moral autonomy; yes, for love, and yes, for a planted
seed, but it gets so old running from room to pun. This joy in another person
this cyan sky this beauty at this legendary Beach; our European birds mating
with our African birds and life is memories and passion and gems; therefore, so
alert to my culture, so threshed by ghetto reality, but finding it difficult to
believe in strict alienation. It was heaven those months while feeling
something wrong but good days flourished in spite of ourselves. You possessed
in me these equality insecurities so rounded with fears and so damned to fail;
thitherto this deep eclipse this place we weren’t Asian enough to ignore where
pains overwhelmed something unmasked by travesty; but long to you this life in
purity if but to locate a stalwart soul-scape.
I adore
you to lose you or to win something a terrible battle; our eyes as glass
harmonicas our saffron complexions while sipping too much to feel more than
love; our amaranth skies our sunset emotions where it was beauty to insist;
those sentimental artifacts or souls splattered in membranes as I often wonder
if Love has a complete innocence; this helmet shattered this breastplate so
sensitive or our brothers and sisters taking their helms. Trumpets are blazing
and daughters are waltzing where time is on sabbatical; this ghetto scenery or
this Westwood aliveness while a soul drove six hours to hear his rescue; for
Love is dire attraction and Love knew his name and Love was so excited his eyes
drew water; such ruffle and feathers such texture and life if but to adore in
eternity this seeming mis-fitting.
I misuse
you to love you more while you unglue me to piece me back together again; thus
our grays and thus our tears if but to have one more child; this curse in men
this division in blacks while a person is judged based upon complexion; indeed
so deep while never an inclination as to investigate a person’s philosophy;
those damned peoples if but to elude to something sickening while certain
realities speak more to paradox than all peoples; our seams unthreaded and Love
just gave birth where realism skipped our orientation; to enter this warzone to
die in radiance or accustomed to something with flares.
