revolution my dear
dear sweet revolution,
the revelation of your pages
burning up so,
like the predictions of ancients
their persian tongues
lashing their syllables
on your heels
as you run for cover
urban guerillas
screaming allahjah’s
name
we all fall in love
sometime
with change and the passion to labour for change..and i have been working
and writing and drawing and labouring for such said change,
in me
in the universe of my own deep
dreaded metaphor,
yes,
i am as they say
the naive sympathizer
who puts himself
between them
and the socalled us,
aint no mileage in being mean
seen,
god loves us all,
one and all in our niggardly
way
hungering and working
in a savage tribe,
called the human race.
blind struggling
through our days
making sense of our
dis placements.
resentments sneezing bullets
in brown skins
the sins of our dead
gone fathers avenged
like the burning
stench of our own
disquiet compromise.
my own laughter at my heavy hand is heaviest
when i see pictures of your masked face
your own faith for fire and brimstone change
shooting from your eyes..
in a word i wanna be next to you
by you shooting the bazooka of bomb blasted
words
exploding into the empty white pages of the dailies.
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