*Kano Women (of Kano, Nigeria)

the women here have cocoa colored glances
always seeming to go somewhere else
their bodies are covered in long wraps of cloth
dipped in many colors bright
made out in the sun
walking tall along long dirt paths
child tied there on her back
a bucket full of water resting here on her head
her delicate shoulders quietly nestled
smoothly flowing softly going
in the gentle swaying whisper of her presence
here in this baked desert land cool
water she’s sipped pouring here through our hands
coming there in my eyes going here otherwise
everywhere and besides
so silent so heard
the resonance of melodious words

*Audio Available at www.nadhiriwrites.com

our misanthropic suing of us ( a tonal drawing written in poetic form

our misanthropic suing of us
(beginnings and endings are one’ns)

permutationing segregationings
is never discerning learning
just convuluting pervertionationing
festerings festering festerings
on’n’on’n’on
the slithering enticing ploy of
duplicitous dominationings are
always new distillationings of
the same hallucinationing cleverly
pimp’n our collective contumaciousing
for eternal vacinationings
of worn perversenationings
of themmm canonical protocols
here still reverberationing on in
themmm prophetic oceanic waves
swaddling here in our heads
serpentining our common matrix
permutationing segregationings
is never discerning learning
just convuluting pervertionationing
festerings festering festerings
on’n’on’n’on

scared’s the collusion rent’n grief (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

scared’s the collusion rent’n grief
(the messaging mirage’n of relief)

everything’s here nowhere’n everywhere
repleting bogus’n boasting hostings
of air disgust and you
on miraging stages
just here aloning all alone
quantuming illusionationing
virtualizing delusionationing
something is always here
cowarding inside false cocoons
of nothinging

evaporating mirages are
masquerading perturbationings
of phantoming arms of pleasing
imaginary’n perusionationings
of the carnivor-rating bounty
of serpentining collusio-nationings
of make believing hallucinationing
in absurding our shuffling herding
of multiforous trademarking wordings
of us just being scared

what who is this that I being (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

“i’ve lost the way
of what there’s left
of me that i brung
in them ship how i come
in this room it dark
caint see where my face
caint tell who this is
caint find where this place
how far is i from
this here where i come
how long i must go
‘fore will i never gon know”

*what who is this that i being

who is this i say’n is me
the one outside through whom i see’n
or somebody else i wish’n i am
what’s this i feeling i cannot see
this hole it here inside of me
is i the fault for what i being
or this scared wrapp’n here
around my knees
and what can i supposing to do
if nobody see’n nobody in here
not even me
who dat gon come and rub me warm
when there aint no yesterday
so how come it i always have’n to cry
why come it never nobody else ‘sides me
who’s the one that supposed to die

*Audio available at www.nadhiriwrites.com
Copyright © 1993, 2016 Asili Ya Nadhiri

Mama (tonal drawing written in poetic form)

“O ALLAH
if You must take my mama now
please give her the paradise
and bless me to be living so this time
we’re being with each other forever”

Mama

I’m here always still being there
on the threshold of the room where
you’re lying there waiting for me
by yourself all alone with no cover
on a bed that you’re renting—
something you’ve always owned—
just to be being here . . . closer to me
your lips are majestically purple-ing
in their eternal proclamationing
the purpose of your life
keeping me forever
safe and warm
in your arms
. . . here we are Mama at last
leaning on the horizon
of our mutual embracing
in this pausing momenting
of all my chasing
my tears are cleansing my soul
so my eyes are seeing you now
and I’m hearing the sommoning
of all your lonelying tears
that I never made time to wipe away
by just being near to see

voice recording at www.nadhiriwrites.com

what who is this i be (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

*what who is this that i being

*Audio available at www.nadhiriwrites.com
Copyright © 1993, 2016 Asili Ya Nadhiri

this illusivernationing ruse (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

this illusivernationing ruse
(dying dead and still just here cling’n onto
cling’n onto this mo’n’mo be’n here dying dead)

this proliferation’n infestation’n swarming
of neuteringed buzzards just always acting . . .
make-believing prey circling ’round’n’round
‘puke’n our inflationate’n depredation’n
in retardationing echoes scavenging here
in our heads ’cause desperators we’re always
hallucinating predatationers pretending in our
choreographic looking down on other themmms
swarming’round just like us up there dying too
themm ones who we’re crawling down on our
knees to in this ancient theatricize’n baracoon’n
just like it’s something spank’n BRAND NEW
and all’us’all be be’n born so fuh have’n this to do
. . . circulating convoluting protestationers
culling the dulling heads of themmm ‘other
herds of phantasizing wanderers girgling
treading water so keep’n ‘all’us’all just still
somewhere here lingering on’n’on’n’on
to just on’n’on to rolling over’n’over
so wrapping on up in in this same old
same olding opiummate-cising of just
forever’n’ever stumbling wandering on
fantasizing in our virturalize’n morphilize’n
in the full and sapient glow’n of this !SUN!
. . . numbingly mushrooming on in vicarious
trophy-ationing self serving network-ation’ns
. . . rolling the same lull’n litanies of hypnotic
comatosing blues and dischordanting drippings
of inflationate’n anesthetize’n talismanic tattoos

amen’n ’cause I’m tired (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

amen’n ‘cause i’m!tired!of feeling like me
(always lining-up somewhere waiting to be had)

this swelling debilitationing
is sucking everything up
and religiously crucifying us all

as zombies hypnotically dancing

clamorously amening! ourAMEN-ING!

sway’n in algorithmic automationings

of our traditional drumming strummings

and saturday night dos-si-dor-ings

blithe broadway vocal-lationings

and toxic arena inhalationings

so be acting like we feeling sump’n real

in these numbing collapsing veins

of our emptying synthetic arms

as congressively we’re all overriding

what’s left of any notion of alarm

most all of us all are just squanderers

pretentiously pondering wanderers

hallucinating in fancy abandoning malls

penthouse stalls and wet low rent halls

surburban palls and trailer park drawls

all alone in coffling crowds of begging eyes

vicarious junkies we running back’n’forth

in pluming hair-do’s tattoos tobacco chews

and brand new 5^th avenued alligator shoes

spandexing with everything we muse

‘cause aint none of our trump cards working

aint working no mo’ like they ‘sposed

we just hustling’n’hustling anyway we can

here trying to hiding behind just being seen

snorting like this “!aint nothing but’a thang!

if you keep on sucking up it won’t be long

‘fo all’us all be here feeling just the same!

. . . coming’round forever go’n on around

cadaver’n make-believe’n abracadabra’s (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

this pretensious serpentining is

swallowing us up as echoing mules

for the hopeless potionings of fools

cadaver’n make-believe’n abracadabra’ers

!just here self-zombify’n’ed on into be’n

so mighty mo’n’mo scared!

most all’us’all just still them themmms . . .

here scratching there now on cave walls

mesmerize’n in sanctify’n dehumanising

manifest gestation’n testation’n destination’ns

!here self-zombify’n’ed on into just be’n