Saturday, February 27, 2010

When will you come down?

Fire racing, fire chasing, fire we set free
Torchlight guide, fires blazing
Shepard that we lead

Fire-fire-fire racing
chasing towards the trees...



I am awake. My eyes are open.
I will see souls stripped bare tonight,
I will see bodies stripped of their clothes,
I will see people stripped of their humanity,
I will see bodies stripped of their souls.
Realize that anger is pain.
Realize that Heat rises.
Brother, when will you come down?

My head feels so tight I could scream,
yet our mouths remain shut
a vice, a weight pressing on the sides of the skull
like an ugly crown, a demons headdress,
the devil's blessing bonded with skin we use
to escape the fate of those bonded with skin
we liken to our shadows,
and rid ourselves of both by the light of fire.

Anger is pain.

Thy kingdom come of fire, of heat
of fists, spit, and blood
Father! I am paralyzed by the steadiness of your hand
and light in your eyes as you tied the knot.
How clean you look, standing to watch the pendulum swing
back and forth,
back and forth,
as the breeze counts our sins.
Mother! Your sweet voice brings comfort no longer, but instead
haunts me in its silence. All I hear now is the echo of your screams
as they introduced you to their friend the flame.
Sister! Look not upon charred flesh as a darkening of skin,
but a darkening of souls. Hung here is the ugly hearth of your patronage,
cold hearts alighting in helpless tinder with vigilante sparks.
Sear your brain with the pain he felt as you watch the infernal smoke
rising so black into the night.
This is no dream, you're eyes are open.
Realize that heat rises.
Brother! When will you come down?

Thy kingdom come upon us, come uppance
all come to soon and gone in a flash
what purpose, what justice of our divine wrath?
what divinity so wrathful to lead our smiling descent to the gates of hell
and watch approvingly as we hold our brothers down, laughing as they drown in pain?
Hold your revelry for but a moment,
and you will hear minds crack in this inferno
You will hear our souls dry, wither, and waste.
You will hear a body burn.

Realize

air becomes more and more scarce
as muscles clench tighter and tighter
until they're ready to break with tension
and flail out to destroy everything within reach
screaming freedom while wrapping the chains
tighter around all of us
tighter around our throats
to keep us from speaking
tighter around his neck
to keep him from breathing
and higher, higher up the tree
Brother, when will you come down?


Fire racing, fire chasing, fire in the trees
Torchlight guide, fires blazing
Shepard that we lead

Fire-fire-fire blazing
Fire we set free...

--


We of the South have never recognized the right of the negro to govern white men, and we never will. We have never believed him to be the equal of the white man, and we will not submit to his gratifying his lust on our wives and daughters without lynching him." - South Carolina Governor and Senator Benjamin R. Tillman, 1900.



Look first at Stacy, then turn to the little girl in the summer dress, looking at Stacy, and then to the man behind her, perhaps her father, in the spotless white shirt and slacks and the clean white skimmer. They will stand there forever, admiring the proof of their civilization.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Ink

My eyes are tattooed with the ink of your skin
images, shapes are all just a guise
for the visage of you that makes my heart sing,
Love and obsession are much the same thing.

Your hair is knotted with grease and grey matter
synapse fire I can feel in my chest,
feel your heart beat, inhale your sweet cream colored scent
though I left thousands of miles to lie
westward between us
as you set in the east,
bedding your Venus right beneath the blankets of snow
I can't melt
no matter how hot I think am.
I can not touch, and I can not look
because you're design is inked in everything I see
Your curves lounge in every shape and shadow
Your laugh in every crowded hallway,
My thoughts have been branded with your silky iron.

It might just be really bad timing,
but you and me, we could've been something physical,
visceral; two dogs in heat with no catch between us,
no pounds except the pound of flesh
pounding in our chests as we pound each other
into happy oblivion.
You the fire, I the smoke.
Tangled up and awash in orange glow
hot with your heat
as you writhe beneath
pushing me up into the sky

Paws without rabbits,
Honey without bees,
Ink without paper.
I can paint you razor blade incisions without blood,
just the scarlet flush of pain and pleasure
slithering up your back until it overtakes your tongue singing
the ecstatic white rolling through your eyes out the top of your head
and back down to rest in the nape of your neck
while you recoil to strike again.

You-me
knock-down
drag-out
no rules and no holds barred.
Hit me so hard that when it's all over I can still taste your blood in my mouth.
One for the ages.
You,
Girl,
Snake,
Eden,
Woman.

My eyes are tattooed with the ink of your skin,
colors and shapes are all just a guise
For the image of you that makes my heart sing
Love and obsession are much the same thing.