(me don’t me want me be loved
want be me just me romance-inged)

*parramore-inged-ing
(like they aint no mo’ playing checkers no mo’)

ah ju’ah’ju’ah juuu ju Juuuuuuu
ah ju’ah ju juuu JUUUUUuuuuuu . . .
they dark faces wait’n ‘round
when they use’ta be stand’n dere lean’n here sit’n
stare-ing on inside veined browned yellowing eyes
who in dey heads black mans
who in dey heads jitterbugging
ah ju’ah’ju’ah juuu ju Juuuuuuu
ah ju’ah ju juuu JUUUUUuuuuuu . . .
why do you look on walking
so far-ring away here
full-ling with what
it farther-ring you on
in the cover you warming
but will not let you see
ah ju’ah’ju’ah juuu ju Juuuuuuu
ah ju’ah ju juuu JUUUUUuuuuuu . . .
arms on they alone-inged
playing on in they hugging
and all there is
is this all there is
ah ju’ah’ju’ah juuu ju Juuuuuuu
ah ju’ah ju juuu JUUUUUuuuuuu . . .
corners they porches
slowly there quickly no parking
strolling on in they standing there standing
waving out through they look’n
nodded they nodding on nodd’n avenues
ah ju’ah’ju’ah juuu ju Juuuuuuu
ah ju’ah ju juuu JUUUUUuuuuuu . . .
still hear this sump’n in’me feel’n
jes’ caint i tell what it say
still hear this sump’n in’me feel’n
jes’ caint i tell what it say
still hear this sump’n in’me feel’n
jes’ caint i tell what it say
duh rhyme it fake’n me out
aint what be me this any way
still hear this sump’n in’me feel’n
jes’ caint i tell what it say
still hear this sump’n in’me feel’n
jes’ caint i tell what it say
still hear this sump’n in’me feel’n
jes’ caint i tell what it say
duh rhyme it fake’n me out
aint what be me this any way
aint what be me this any way
aint what be me this any way
aint what be me this any way
ah ju’ah ju juuu JUUUUUuuuuuu . . .

*The heart-street of the oldest African American
residential area in Orlando, Florida

Copyright © 2001 Asili Ya Nadhiri

bubbular-ing
(no gravity in this swelling sphere)

down’n is up’n and up’n is down’n
and moving all arounding
being here is being there
‘cause it’s all every where
thinking that’s it
when just maybe it aint
but it aint got not to be it
down’n is up’n and up’n is down’n
and moving all arounding
being here is being there
‘cause it’s all every where
eyes still try’n to be look’n down
from a here that’s there some where
so unaware pretending they care
when there’s no such thing as where
down’n is up’n and up’n is down’n
and moving all arounding
being here is being there
‘cause it’s all every where
‘spose i just gon’n’dare that
i’m in a here some where
got my phone
with the camera turned on
so there’s some kinda knowing
that i’m a here some where
down’n is up’n and up’n is down’n
and moving all arounding
being here is being there
‘cause it’s all every where
just a shadow of doubt
this what it be all about
don’t wanna find out that
i don’t wanna find out
down’n is up’n and up’n is down’n
and moving all arounding
being here is being there
‘cause it’s all every where

Copyright © 2017 Asili Ya Nadhiri

reeds 

and aint no body asking
none of no body else
what this some body else here saying
‘cause we just so good at making noise
for any some body who
so long they being
some some body else

robotic-ly signing-on correctly abdicationing
confounding inside a bubbular impounding
hustling tatoos’n’bones’n’juvenilla rhymings
so we seem’n just like it’s us
who being up there performing

and aint no body asking
none of no body else
what this some body else here saying
‘cause we just so good at making noise
for any some body who
so long they being
some some body else 

we posing here hypnotically wraping-up in
the snowing arms of our pixtallate’n charms
fondling us on’n’on in a digitizing om
on into   this old recurring unknown

and aint no body asking
none of no body else
what this some body else here saying
‘cause we just so good at making noise
for any some body who
so long they being
some some body else

* Reeds are essentially hollow things used by others to be heard
Copyright © 2010 Asili Ya Nadhiri

borned bound i borned
and bound again
then i borning borned
re-bound again 

this drumm i beating on me
(for Bud Powell) 

strolling wandered ‘round this
feeling for where sump’n that it warm
dimming moist repensive eyes
staring here over there
reaching at one another
‘cross soft woodening faces
burnt burning cold

but this some thing in here
that it trying to keep on wombing
swelling all up in me
that this dark swollen hold
that undulating my soul
and perpetrating this mould
this thing what it give me this cover
making me making me made
too numb to dare

hands they with no fingers
reaching out of they bones
fulling white rings smeared
‘round dark hungry mouths
who they running and running
from they running and running
and running and running
they nursing the fear-inged
what onto that that they held
that they holding on
snacked-on here eating
in swallowing undergrounds

but this some thing in here
that it trying to keep on wombing
swelling all up in me
that this dark swollen hold
that undulating my soul
and perpetrating this mould
this thing what it give me this cover
making me making me made
too numb to dare

Copyright (c) 2004 Asili Ya Nadhiri

so hastily demising

puke is honing all our guild-ing mouths
river-lettings of cautionary yellowing
soupingly entangling with chunks of
scarlet red hollaring audacious bubblings
running on flooding all the soggy moulds
and rhythmating knolls’n’holes’n’souls
where we’re all just runn’n on here wait’n

imploding echoes are snoring in the belly
of all our rapaciously ajudicating verdicts
our fawning marble-ling institutions
and their yawning substitutions
and common disdaining ablutionings
are desperately devouring each other
for one another’s cracked cup
of some noma-nating brew
on and on and on and on
and always we acting like
this is something brand new

Copyright © 2017 Asili Ya Nadhiri

hubrisationing masking

and why are we anxiously submitting
to this living so little as such!
hailing devious nibblers as so mighty much
‘cause they shouting “how great i am!”
claiming this is just what we need’n
so us being just like this here again

 and this stalking putrid bubbling
in the babbling of our whining solipsist
is making flapping lips puckering up
sprue-ing the pungenating odor
of this ancient and bilious coaxing
turning us on into animated “it”-ics
so algorithming us all into clinical addicts

no trust no where no need requesting
desperately want’n this some other else
so what’s left accept all we’re missing
that’s still right here for us waiting
but we go on cloning our same old selves
the ones who that we don’t wanna be
strutting scared in this longing alone
and in after all our loud  petty jesting
we cling’n onto this porous pretending
erosionate’n numbies march’n on behesting
arm and arm wearing our opiating norms

so many of us are cleverly surrendering
sloshing around in acting just like it aint so
injecting ourselves with convoluting absurds
trying to conjure up notions of a win
in this surrogating game we’re playing
by fudging serpentining constipationing
with erotic mathematizing ruse-a-nationing

Copyright © 2017 Asili Ya Nadhiri

hubrisationing
(obsessing with pour’n misery on ourselves)

and why are we living as such
glorifying nibbles as so mighty much
why aint this making us real hungry
and wanting for something more
than all these blatant emjubilating lies
we trying to hide behind for so long
just holding on to wishing’n’waiting
for them magical screaming any bodies
who be blasting up here on our screens
shouting ‘bout “how great i am!”
claiming to know just what we need’n
so us being just like this same again

 but these stalking putrid smellings
in the babbling of our whining solipsis
making all us lips puckering up
sprue-ing the pungenating odor
of this ancient and bilious hoaxing
festering potions in our heads
turning us on into animated it-ics
algorithming our worlds into clinics

what’s left ‘cept all we here missing
in our splashing mesmerizing bashings
desperately want’n something other
that’s right here waiting for our having
but we keeping on cloning ourselves
these ones that we don’t wanna be
enfolding scared in this aloning alone
—no trust no where no need requesting
. . . and after all our loud  petty jesting
still cling’n onto this fatuous pretending
marching zombies strutting on behesting
arm and arm wearing opiating norms
try’n to conjure up a win
in this erosi0nate’n game
by covering our serpentining trails
in erotic mathmetizing ruse-a-nationing

Copyright © 2017 Asili Ya Nadhiri

atlantic mooring

glistening sheets of scrolling waters
drumming on in resounding billows
wet humming oracles unfolding there
nourishing darkening trepidationings
reverently enthralling wondering tongues
in loud roaring echoes leaving their trace
undauntingly entangling on
here across your face

by the stark emancipationing of this moon
staring on through cavern crevices homemade
silently kneading assuaging this fear inside
wrap’n’round the musclings of our strides
so these bronze shackled imprinting soles
aint froth aloning for the leave of wet sands
drying scared in hubrisating emulationings
who here begging unbeknowingly awaiting
the mutual beholding of kindred hands
emanating of our native humane

obedient you feeding this tumultuous
flooding here in our wondering souls
with snarling notion-nings crashing there
attacking foreboding wallings of this hold
nourishing the epic will of all them daring . . .
when so quietlying on back out on into then
and now on your way forth on up here again
embracing us all in this womb with its sway
pronouncing on and on of this cosmic way

Copyright © 1983, 2014 Asili Ya Nadhiri

**Carver Curbing

coming slowly sitting there ones-by-ones
leaning ‘gainst the sides of this wall-less stall
monolithic in illustrious nefarious illusionings
they swaddling in a delusional mid-knightening
caressing the jaws of this carnivorous darkening

magnetic syrupy corners sticking sneaker-ing shoes
of elderless circlings hooching to a loquacious blues
plum lips sucking smoke as the gist of this tryst
all here so being there in a yondering no where
squat’n here scared roll’n’up in this rusing
spilling on into twilighting twilightenings
rapping so ‘cause they hearing no drums

they spinning their tales of wanton plunderings
for filling emptying bags of a desperate longing
arrested in the mouthing of vicarious sunderings
so being any where there but here some where

surreal enrapturing in knee-jerking vagaries
try’n to hide from the silence erase’n them here
in the addicting embouchure’ns embracing
here in this swallow’n womb

each turned-out pocket is a notion seen’n small
but the fate of one flag is the same for us all
reaching out in a traitorous enthralling gall
vociferizing mesmerizing scandalizing too
camouflaging in the swooning of supposing foils

they looking at one another for any other who
do’n a sump’n else so make’n them a special few
swirling in wondering scared of all alone
like most the rest of us here  we all doing too

**A large neighborhood served by Carver Middle School in Orlando, Florida                                            Copyright © 2014 Asili Ya Nadhiri

The Swooping Strides of Midnight Marches 

1.
i seeing creeks of seamless moments
in the thickening of wrinkles
rippling in stilled darkening faces
scurrying away back on inside
to a hiding from the dawn

2.
a small brown boy
squatting down in a corner
bruising and silently erasing
in the fouling embouchuring
of this tribal embrace

3.
here some where there right in here
where long nights spread their rusing arms
rubbing as mystical promissory balms
against the rawed weathering souls
of urbaned vagabonds

Copyright © 1993 Asili Ya Nadhiri