talking drummms

          Rhythm is an immensely important means to which we humans are  immensely committed in our desire to learn more and more about the earlier and earlier . . . ∞ history of the universe (our ultimate environment), and our subsequent evolution. WAVES. . . interpreting gravitational waves still travelling, therefrom, is the medium we are presently asking to provide us with this information. What I am pondering, as equally important, is the present rhythm of our human population; AND JUST WHAT ARE WE LEARNING FROM THE WAVES GENERATING  FROM OUR COLLECTIVE RHYTHMING

. . .VIS-A-VIS INVISIBLIZING

      A society whose citizens are enthusiastically selecting its leaders with a blatant and celebratory disregard for their morality and commitment to serving them (those citizens), is one that is in the rapidly consuming jaws of existential decline. ASK: VIS-A-VIS OUR OVERWHELMING PREDELECTION WITH “ME!ME!ME!ME!ME!, WHAT ARE OUR SELF-PORTRAITS SO BLATANTLY SHOWING/TELLING US ABOUT OURSELVES AND INVISIBLIZING

ASK: WHAT ARE OUR SELF-PORTRAITS SO BLATANTLY SHOWING/TELLING US ABOUT OURSELVES AND INVISIBILITY

CAN’T SING AND DANCE
BUT THEY SURE CAN HOLLAR
 AND DO THAT PRANCE!

          Absolutely, we are loving our fools; to the point of fawning just to be “selfie-ing-ly and fawningly” wallowing in being, most ostentatiously, their public lackies. We, almost, unconditionally elevate them to public acclaim for doing little more than watery farting; proclaim and militarily (pay our various news media) to explain/rationalize (serpentine) their public disdain; continuously resuscitate their frequently recurring demise; and, always, during their paid sabbatical, replace them with some substituting otherwise. The more morally perverting and psychologically absurd our fools are, the greater our enthusiasm and servile dedication to celebrating their every word. But we’re so cavalierly desperating and alluringly dancing in our geometrically swallowing opiationing; we’re blatantly and defiantly never never never ever taking heed: WE ARE LONG LONG SIMPLY REAPING WHAT WE ARE FOR SO LONG BEING SOWING

pedal tones
(reflection of Miles’ “Blue in Green”)

you alone drawn as praying fingers brown
is a taste savored sweet in my plummed lips
and gently breathed back in you
is me in you

a word in me toned from dark brown ground
is heard and caressed in your nippled breasts
and slowly poured back in me
is you in me

a tear honed waiting near your eyes brown
is a soft silence heard and grown in me
and quietly sown back in you
is me in you
is me

Copyright  ©  1993 Asili Ya Nadhiri

carnivalling

in rings they sing
at the walls of this thing
they sing and they sing
Lord knows they sing
and here there comes another ring
in streets down there they left there bare
black topped and striped to give them flare
and hardly ever swept who knows who cares
hair weavened heads swinging from homemade vines
they getting high on the sound
of them endless rhymes and syncopating mimes
dancing bare footed sweating in the winter time
and ‘round and ‘round and ‘round and ‘round
in the shadow of things they never win
before it comes back it done n gone by again
amen amen amen
in rings they sing
at the walls of this thing
they sing and they sing
Lord knows they sing
and here there comes another ring
in church how they sweat
and while they praying and yet
the preacher hustling some blues
‘fore dancing feet in they shoes
there’s heaven under one shell
but then you never can tell
just where the sweet smell of hell
they turning ‘round and ‘round and ‘round and then
they jumping outa they seat
there sitting down again
amen amen amen
in rings they sing
at the walls of this thing
they sing and they sing
Lord knows they sing
and here there comes another ring
inside they head
where all they know is they said
and what they make believe
divide’em here from the dead
dark shadows they greased and on they stroll
left in there wandering into growing on old
going along those roads like it been foretold
they swirling they dabbled with Africa traces
made up borrowed from they kin in jungled places
laughing they laughing at they small dark faces
spinning ‘round and ‘round and ‘round and when
they running away there over yonder
they standing right here again
amen amen amen
in rings they sing
at the walls of this thing
they sing and they sing
Lord knows they sing
and here there comes another ring
when help it come it on the run
it always something it never done
somebody proclaim they holy name
for fame and pockets full of bubbled gum
driving big white boats through desert lands
pouring sparkling sands in begging dark hands
and basketballs in tiny food cans
going ‘round and ‘round and ‘round they been
they keep coming on back so’s to go again
amen amen amen
in rings they sing
at the walls of this thing
they sing and they sing
Lord knows they sing
and here there comes another ring
tomorrow it comes and it never nears
eyes they dried by their falling tears
brown bottles scattered and emptied full
of checker games and the silver bull
in vacant lots under old shade trees
rolling dice with no eyes under bended knees
frozen there waiting for the end of something
that’s always never come
looking ‘round and ‘round and ‘round they grin
always there at where they been
amen amen amen
in rings they sing
at the walls of this thing
they sing and they sing
Lord knows they sing
and here there comes another ring

Copyright © 1993 Asili Ya Nadhiri

wandering here in this dark
where it eating up the light
(for Ralph Ellison)

i hear no words
but these that mine
mouths open they wide
they make no sound
where my hands is they bound
i cannot find
in the bottles and cans
throwd here on the ground

who’s in this bag
what i totes for me
howcome me when they cut
they always see
something bleeding in here
that it never is me
aint i this shadow i supposed to be
dear god can you ever gone deliver me
from inside here
where i’m supposed to be

Copyright © 1993 Asili Ya Nadhiri

beloving

and i’m always coming back
so something here
can swallow me whole
in one piece all together
so i can stay right here with you
sometime i can hear it somewhere
there saying
“come to me come to me
come to me baby just the way you is”
and i can taste the soft dry touch
of your thick dark lips
sipping at the water
it just standing in here
you wanna stir it
so the arms of the ripples
go spreading out real wide
but you scared you know you scared
scared about me
‘bout what you dont know
in little school girl curls
sometime you twirl
dancing the words of rivers gone on
in this womb full of unspoken things
and i always have to leave ‘fore you done
running in the dark from what i caint see
out there with you in here with me
that why i’m always coming back
everytime once again
and starting everything over
so it never get done

Copyright © 1993 Asili Ya Nadhiri

smiling here where it warm in my daddy’s hand
(a song for little Eldrid and his father)

son my hand it big and it heavy
and sometime it knock over thangs
that aint there in the way
and when i walk i be leaning over
like i neah’bout ready to fall
my voice i stutter and it loud
and this temper of mine
it don’t like no crowd “i get scared son”
and sometime i just have to take a drink
‘cause the day i have to wake up in
!it aint fair!
everywhere i go they be always there
and they be making me feel like i’m nothing
like these hands of mine they aint got no use
and son i work !hard! work hard everyday
but this feeling it just won’t leave me alone
i wannuh do something so bad i can taste it
but i don’t know what i supposed to do
been left here by myself for so long
everything i seem to do it be wrong
but these hands they STRONG . . . lord
they just got to be strong
that why sometime i just start swanging
and swanging and swanging some mo’
trying to hit sump’n !then!
i wannuh feel sump’m fall!
but all the hit’n i ever be doing son
is when i be there beat’n on you
and then sometime just after the sunset
when the ways of this day start’n’duh hush
and when i know you done ate
you done went on to bed
i’m standing here outside this window pain
and the soft steady sound of your breathing
is p0uring sweet sungs drumming through me
and washing away everything this day it done
and i’m feeling your tiny lil’l hands
right here in mine
they watching you sleep
while they keeping us warm

Copyright © 1993 Asili Ya Nadhiri

sucking on the sugar titty of vicariousing
(elegy for most all of us all) 

who is this i ‘m pretending i’m being
the one outside through whom i’m seeing
or somebody else i’m wishing i am
what’s this i’m feeling that i cannot see
this hole is the one here inside of me
now is i the fault for how i be
or this scared wrapping here
all around my knees
and what else can i be supposing to do
if nobody’s still seeing nobody in here
not even me
how else i going to be feeling me warm
‘cept wallowing over and over
in fantasizing every day and yesterday
so how come we’re still themm ones
who always be having to cry
and why it’s never nobody else besides us
who’re the ones who’s supposing to die
who’re the ones we’re supposing to die
who’re the ones we’re supposing to die

Copyright © 1993, 2004, 2018 Asili Ya Nadhiri