Emotive expression through words, words that give flesh to deep, ethereal, and complex emotions. Instead of running away from these queer emotional constructs, this zone greets them as friends and converses with them in light of that friendship.
Shop Coffee Table Books!
Get link
Facebook
X
Pinterest
Email
Other Apps
BLACK LIKE ME
Quotes, reflections and inspirations during the time of the world's racial uprising and unrest.
PICS, POEMS, & PLANTS
Send me an email if you're interested in a copy of these one of a kind coffee table books. sherieg417@gmail.com!
GOOD ANCESTOR These lips are theirs, They tell me live. This strong black nose, Powerful, massive. This angled jaw, Cuts like knife. If no you, For me no life. I wish I could, Just see your face. Offer thanks For this their race. I wonder what their word would be, Could their eyes today see me? To aft or bow would they go? And perish in that sea below? Or would their seed be cause enough, for peace in a Jesus from Lübek? The carrion call of treacherous ocean Or future cries of offsprings’ devotion? These the broken ones, Baptized in blood, Are good ancestors Watching above. by: Planted Black Prose
FLORAL ARRANGEMENTS. Cut for me darling a single red rose. Dip it in sorrow, bring to my nose. Wrap it in suffr’ing paint it with tears. Dry it in silence for 30 plus years. Pluck for me darling a pocket of posies. Strip them of petals and lay them with roses. Snap them in pieces and bury with ashes. Dye them with raindrops and burn them in batches Plant now my darling a bed of gardenias. Plant for me tulips, daisies, hydrangeas. Feed them with passion and drench them with love. Guard them from john crows circling above. by: Planted Black Prose
Shut up, quiet you fool! You’re losing cool. Will not be quiet, must riot! 😡 😠 mad as, fuming that the veil gets (sweeping statement) all this attention for drawing attention to erstwhile dimensions of OUR collective pain (jealous?). They really like it, don’t they? Its the pits. I’m sad, but I guess its true, and, being true now what to do? Continue doing what has been done, two hundred times two plus one (guilt, the guilt of doing nothing)? Willed to our descendants, your continued coronation? What can veils speak of runaway brides’ frustrations? Rambling rambling flows their words, tumbling tumbling into verbs. (scuffs) The irony of shining light on cruel tales of one’s own might. The fabled wolf of storybooks came to life and overtook the ill-begotten silent lamb, a bumbling pirate of penzance. Oh the guilt of being roped in, lapping up this cup (of sin). From platformed tables fell the crumbs and like a fool, I ate it up (the sin within). I am implicated....
Comments