we
lose icons, such disease, as it tiptoes internally. such innocent essence or
cavalier sin or doctoral wizards. by beret or coat or solid leather. so much in
need so material where blacks are studying philosophies; our epistemic our
existential our Invisible Man. pure hunger while trying desperately to
camouflage slavery. born into hostility such raw frustration while brutality is
four hundred years solid. we seek solidarity. parents are succumbing. addiction
raids our intestines. such a drink if but for clarity or women so gorgeous damn
near suicidal. by glamour to die sunk into a stupor so snug in misery. Cosby a
maniac, such a deep disappointment, where our women can’t depend upon us. I was
lost in trance, I met a lady, she was reluctantly living. it kills us when they
die, our souls wrapped in wire, our thrill so gone! dear for gods our yogis.
dear for Father our Christians. & dear for life our children. theory comes
by observation, to discern between calculations, where a daughter plays her
guitar. to admire so much blackness, or to feel abrupt, so absorbed in pure
resistance; such systematic acceptance, such short-term cures, where a man must
sacrifice his blackness. our souls belong to our women. our minds belong to
Ultimate Energy. our hearts belong to each other. to incubate a child, so born
to crack-addiction, while she breaks free. so many positive souls, so stressed
by existence, if but to change a smidgen: those clever youngsters, our biracial
seeds, our Jewish community. so much Spanish in us, our land needs to feel
studied, our peoples are surviving together. as brown winners, or black
witnesses, such love for eclectic whites!
