(this self-devouring coffling
of our serpentining norm
is desperately swallowing us on into
a hollowing entangling porn)
! MeMeMeMeMeMe! . . .
HELL NO! can’t afford seeing you
be keeping you from seeing me
and doing all them other things
so making how it’s ‘sposed to be
can’t gon be counting no body else
but this one we calling !me!
this why no longer this pretending
i’m caring about some how and why
i’m screaming!me!
echoing in yo’ head all the time
deeper on deeper ensconcing on down
rapidly eroding our hallowed ground
so nothing here but ME’s be’n heard
this endless perverse-nationing renown
accumulate’n in all up’n’under our ruse
we needing a new brand new kinda muse
dat aint ah’humming and ah’sanging
and ah’drumming no blues
so what’s left for me to be saying
‘cept keep yo’ ass here way on over there
on outa my goddamn way!
‘less’n you gon be here ah’chanting
real loud about !me!
Copyright © 2016 Asili Ya Nadhiri
And the “new brand new kinda muse” should embrace the myriad states of being in our nation which are actually beyond the blues in the possibilities of jazz.
J. W. Ward, Jr. 19 Dec 2016