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Conjolted Poetry

Conjolted Poetry

Tuesday, 21 April 2015

Latif Baker

Latif Baker.

I hovered in the atmosphere,
staring at my wide open body,
as my gunner dragged out-
his double burrow past the door.

I had spoken words for the wise to fools...

I had told them I would save them,
awaken each from their sleep,
cut the chain off each sheep,
limb by limb to save each being...

They called me a political affiliate,
seeking another piece of their cake,
so stones they cast to my head,
and sent me to a hospital bed...

And I dreamt a dream like Abe linc,
of a Catafalque gawking like a shrink,
tapping death like a pen at my sorry state-
as people around cried and laughed, at last.

I awoke with a gut feeling,
dwindling from my conscious-
to the pores of my skin,
and into trickles of sweat.

When I got my quill,
to jot down my final will,

Maria Rosa (la vie sur un lit de roses)

la vie a las lit de roses
You drown me in your bed of Roses,
cradle me in there and sing to me;
parodies of silent operetta,
that comfort me and make me better
yet often prick me for I can feel your pain...

The earth unearthed and birthed you,
summoned by the will of higher power.
The tropics told tales of changed weather,
as you anew lost all fortunes mercy,
of radiant colour flowing out your lips...

You once used to flux white winter crystals,
but when we met it's like you had cracked teeth,
It felt like you were ashamed or afraid to speak.
but you smiled, and I l lost all speech,
they told me I missed to hear you sing..

A Mimosa-pudica; I shrunk in fear my dear,
when I asked you to join me in wanderlust-
on a tour to the lea of loves great expanse...
I felt like you held your words in pride,
but you held peace sign after which we did stride...

It felt like we had been lovers in our past lives,
held hands in silence like entwined canopies-
the beauty of it seen outward and inward.
We had peace of natural ever green,
and the nature of the wild stomping in our hearts.

We went where the water falls fall and leaped,
after which love followed and blossomed.
I now stare into your eyes, your golden eyes,
and I thank God for your priceless beauty-
for it is true He handed you to me like air...

In your atmosphere I feel poetic poignancy,
for when we exchange character in character trade,
you crochet finely knit words for my diet.
Your silence is musical; it's sweet to the ear
like pine needles blown by a calm breeze...

Every time you are away from me,
I pick-roses and peal them petal by petal,
chanting "you love me, you love me not,"
and this mysterious rose speculation-
thoroughly confirms your love for me...

By your side in our precious time;
I lay calm and comfy in ardent silence,
with no need to speak just to feel,
the delicate rose touch of your skin-
burn goosebumps on my rough hide.

Your love is a pool of serene water,
adorned with floating rose petals,
and I, I am sunk deep in your waters.
for your silence is in an elixir;
that which gives me back pieces-
of my mind from this troubled world.

Maria Rosa, la vie a las lit de roses,
when a thorn pricks you,
I'll be that mouse that saves your elephant heart.

Friday, 17 April 2015

Take me to Church [Performance Piece]

Black Isa, Take me to Church!

I keep,
going to the river to pray,
cause I need,
something to wash out the pain,
and God knows,
I try to keep my demons at bay,
but oh they,
fight me and keep me awake

Take me to church,
take me to church...

Where I can sing with my holy spirit.
looking  possessed by unholy majini.
for from where I hail it's not a norm to sing,
like this beard that I fear makes queer,
in this place that I need to terrorise,
and bomb down my unholy self-
'fore they lock me up for identity theft.

Take me to church!
Where the preacher won't point fingers,
but will my parcel of alms fit their figures?
For I am poor but want to be treated like a deacon-
'cause first come first serve makes me-
high and mighty like a steeple beacon..

Take me to church,
where I can be treated like Jesus treated sinners,
and if I leaped a leap of lepers,
 I'd fit in among the leopards.
Pure breeds of fine skin and body,
doted to the soul by sins,
moulded beings moulded by sins-
for breaking their din...

I said; Take me to church
for my temple is unholy,
I keep going to the river-
but I don't know where John is-
to baptist and cleanse me
I keep praying and praying,
but the demons keep poking and poking-
for they find me sweet as I'm forbidden-
forbidden to them like pork is to Muslims...

Take me to church,
where we perfume ourselves to mask foul odours,
yet if like a whiff of incense with essence-
we reached the pulpit first
to confess and sacrifice our greed,
pride, and materialistic bridal majesty
to our majesty forgiveness would be in order,
but we do not bother-
we act naive and pay high prices,
to live exquisite niggard/selfish lives,
driving five sit cars but can't afford
to give another brother a lift,
oh do you get my drift?

We single out and stigmatise,
who at dinner time is worth fish or bones-
yet Jesus gave us all...
Maybe if they sold goodness-
we would all be wealthy at heart,
and it hurts that before you is a sinner,
once a jerk off fella turned to Casanova,
staging telenovelas for TV to see me,
as I lost me until I turned of the TV,
and saw a reflection of the real me!

I was lost, lost inside a box,
selling kilos of sperm to my hand,
condoms, and bygones for short lived gratification,
must I mention 'bout abortion, fornication,
segregation, homosexual relation-
now its cool for us to live without devotion...

For it's 'A' okay for us to live in sin today;
we must have forgotten who grades us tomorrow.
The highest of the highest; numero uno;
Alpha and Omega somebody please give me a:

Take me to church,
Take me to church...

We are Adams and Eves,
chopped from heaven like hanging eaves,
we cracked and gave into sin and greed,
we are the banned devils indeed and in need Of a saviour...

Take me to church,
for I fear I might get bombed in my own mosque,
yet I've heard that the church is a woman in a skimpy skirt!

Now, now don't be mad a me for I am not he,
who walked into our homes in broad day light,
with no need for a welcome like vampires,
with no shame like USA and infiltrated-
all our DNA and killed our humility with a sin-Ak...
so it is the reason I now seek refuge

For I am lost... so I wrought...
Isa if you hear me our saviour
This is not a poem it's an S.O.S....