#145
Where are the answers,
sweet ancestors,
is it less complicated then we might think?
How about this madness, this timing,
is it magick? It makes me think
what does it matter? This monument?
Its meaning? It didn’t help them, did it?
Are they evidence that despite all our spoils
that we can’t help but look for more?
There is a sadness with that,
that i feel, may far go forever.
Something about us is real.
Theres a miracle in that.
When, will we be enough for ourselves?
Would understanding really make this better?
Make it more significant?
Is the magnificence simply that it is,
that i am,
that we are?
Despite all our days behind us?
When, will we be enough for ourselves?
#146
These situations
that seem to excuse
my normal virtues of
kindness greatly frustrate
me. Obviously this is part
of my personality, one
i strive to pacify.
i long for the situations
where i can greet every
stranger as a friend, every
query as a hidden truth,
and not doubt the
motivations of others.
#147
My head plunged to the nile
sticky apple smoke
licked my nostrils as i watched
the street, spying on Spanish Knights
striking moonbeams
enchanting my path
i’ll sail the equinox
to the cape
to the arms of my friends
and past lovers.
#148
Sighs within thine tombs
polish the Sun,
as they bubble past Heaven’s gates,
watching under the
crumbling chapel’s banner
as the hands of lives
tick gently past.
#149
Such heartbreak
when the young Nubian man,
only twenty-two,
tried to sell himself to me.
How horrifying to know,
that he and his friends
have been bought,
and fucked,
by hideous tourists,
how tragic, how heart-wrenching
he was so beautiful
his hair coiled and sculpted,
his soft black skin,
behind his broken eyes
was a kindness, an unfair, profound gentleness,
we laughed away the awkwardness
of his proposal, and shook hands,
he called me Habibi,
it means friend, and
touched my arm
with a smile he said,
“You are a beautiful vanilla.”
i laughed again and told him
“You are a beautiful chocolate.”
he nodded, “and we are Habibis”
“Yes,” i agreed.
i wish i could save him.
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Take care, call your family, tell them you love them.
wazoo!
-Mr. Write