times of fire

it is a time of fire

an age of rising

like waves on a

black sea we are

the pouring over after

being pressed down witness

fire on the water we are

the lesson of the lynching tree

the answer to cotton

the trespassers of language

undressing the weapons

hidden in ink

we are the dreams

projected from projects

the residual of slave hollars

before the rebellions

we are the pouring over

after pressing down

we have walked

miles in the rain & not

drowned we will light

the sun we come with

fire we are of fire & water

we are closer to the dust

knowing we fall like seeds

we come forth in abundance

thrive in the flicker

of the slimmest chance

we come bearing fire

born in a time where vanity

rules truth tellers are slain

poets are labeled mad & fire

is born tended

carried in bellies

hearts minds souls

hot like fire baby

we don’t want new dealers

we want to write a new deal

renegotiate the treaty papers

the terms of engagement

the boundaries of the public

sphere & all thoughts of

manifest destiny

we come with fire

fire heals & destroys baby

we don’t want a new dealer

in this time of callous

disregard the unwashed

walk along the river’s

edge wrapped in the echo

tapped out on iron

Ogun proceeds

Shango gathers the rear

the sound conjures

an unslave ditty

with a free style

cadence breaking

the air of ignorance

disrupting sinister off-key songs of

self-divined too big to fail

democratic failures playing

one note  on the backbones

of the oppressed wrapped in lawless

law ink weapons protecting

invisible war criminals above

law stealing lying dirty hands

operation stealth cloaked in subliminal

sound bites selling us crazy

at market rate

talking heads full of schemes

no quarter offered

none asked

we have come with fire baby

to light paper houses

deconstructing language

writing the narrative of

rebellion burning with forward

motion on our breath

prayer is better than sleep

action more divine than prayer

movement is life we moving

proof of life baby

on fire with no more

time to dance you a jig

juggle two realities

pretend like you make sense

truth is a sword we got

one reality we refuse to

be crazy for you

might be a good time

for you to stop pretending

like you crazy too truth

is a sword cutting through

concocted innocence

perceived fragility

& delusions of supremacy

one reality

not invisible

carrying fire

forward motion on

our breath armed

with fire & truth

hot like fire baby

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

About Ayodele Nzinga, MFA, PhD

I create; therefore I am.
This entry was posted in North American African Perspective, right handed poems and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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