Poetry
• I
Am -
Brittany
Oates
• The Lie - by Hillary
Kaye
• England in 1819 - Percy Bysshe
Shelley
• Thoughts of Venice past -
shanna moore
I
Am
I
am Black
And I'm lovin
it
My hair is dark and
nappy
Like that of charred
grass
And I know you
love
These thick hips and fat
ass
My lips are
full
Like deep red cherries ready to
burst
My tongue is like an orchestra when I
curse
I love this
attitude
That so many
hate
Now
take
This moment to look in my
eyes
See the
Motherland
With its deep
seas
And star lit
skies
See the Nile
River
Flowing like my
blood
Wait
Hold
up
Did you hear
that
Oh
yea
Thats the movement of the
earth
As I sing you these
words
Like a rhinoceros
heard
My harmony is
stampeding
You will never forget this
feeling
Of my sweet Black
juice
I walk with an extra skip because I
choose
Are you
jealous
Because the sun don't shine without
my smile
Because everyone loves my beautiful
Black style
You should
be
And you should
see
That I am a
Queen
Living life so
majestically
Look at
me
I am
Black
And I'm lovin
it.
WISDOM
–Brittany
Oates
----------
The
Lie
by Hillary
Kaye
a 1000 sticks with which to beat
the darkness out.
a rain that falls so
hard
specters held up against the
light
banning the first word and the
last
all these things that did
sustain
they are parted now by something that
can not be reasoned with
a secret code is
missing and no one can decipher what was
lost.
spreading its strong black wings into
the night
carrying off
dreams
the children dying their bodies
burned and charred have taken our lives
to hear this called a
victory
there is nothing to come back
to
the beginning place turns out to be a
lie.
--------
England
in 1819
An old, mad, blind,
despised, and dying king,--
Princes, the
dregs of their dull race, who
Through public
scorn,--mud from a muddy spring,--
Rulers
who neither see, nor feel, nor know,
But
leech-like to their fainting country cling,
Till they drop, blind in blood, without a
blow,--
A people starved and stabbed in the
untilled field,--
An army, which liberticide
and prey
Makes as a two-edged sword to all
who wield,--
Golden and sanguine laws which
tempt and slay;
Religion Christless,
Godless--a book sealed;
A Senate,
Time’s worst statute unrepealed,--
Are
graves, from which a glorious Phantom may
Burst, to illumine our tempestuous
day.
–Percy Bysshe
Shelley
---------
Thoughts
of Venice past
forty
years
We left the Lady
herself
Our
Muse
Is she still
there.....
crying
out!!!!
for the lost
poets
the wonderful
wordmen
and their
ladies....
easing there
pain
spreading it
out
thinly
over
every
footstep
the
prominade
from end to
end
srtollin
waiten
fr the poem
book in
hand
to
capture
the words fr the
lady....
Blues in the lamp
light
of Venice
West
Wallys
wall
"Art is Love is
God"
Jimmys
table.........
"Blow
Soft'!!!!!!
Tonys
laugh.......
Lighting the way
Healing
Stuart Z the
voice
echoes/dylan
thomas
John
Thomas
feeding our
spirit...
still.......
I
go to the web cam
of
Venice....
sometimes
I
see the Lady....
the
mendicant
and the
wordmen..
in
the lamplight
and I
listen......
–
shanna
Posted: Fri - October 1, 2004 at 02:48 PM