drowning on in themm’d knowning rivers . . . (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

drowning on in themm’d knowning rivers
(ensconcing inside this blurring obscuring)

them darkening themms libating their thrones
with all them themms they offering then
for paling hands of themm coveting themms
who stealing on out from under themm when
hungering for the same enthroning enslavings
ordain’n this serpentine’n numb’n sundering on

this infectious guile is subtly canting
chanting on in the canning of themms
as bitter preserves pour’n spreading all out
“dis aint personal my brothers it just business!
now is you feeling me there then!
market matrixation it aint never no sin!”

we mongering legacy mongerers like you
abetting vitiationing hustlers as heroic dons
scared hide’n here behind hide’n there behind
snorting slow low mo’ synthesizing sounds
who making moan’n echoes in emptying arms
callousing us on with what it’s like being blue

this ever deepening invasive fingering
enthralling us inside our own invisibilizing
homespun-ing more’n’more of them themms
so for embalming the eyes of all of us all
in lulling prosaic amorphographic shufflings
’cause all of us all we all just themms

sundown peopling (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

sundown peopling

fingers they dark and otherwise
pouring out here popping
in soft empty pockets
of little corner lots
clustered there anticipate’n
brown bottles they wait’n
for the bellowing mouth
of the same old faces
go slow motion swaying
they going ‘round’n’round and
there they is in they same old places
a little love warming here
warming here over yonder
some rolling dice coming there
coming there in the corner
yo!blood!
wont you tell it again
and put a little sump’n in it
it make the laughing so !good!
‘cause the day where i been
it got no kin to me
the rhythm it aint strong
they dont play no drum
and everything else there
it too be wrong
so pull me on back in
dont leave me hanging between
pull me here where i warm
‘fore monday come here again
YO!BLOOD!
YO!BLOOD!
YO!BLOOD!

BOOjuuing (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

BOOjuuing

root woman root woman
root woman root woman
go where you looking around
for sump’n lost inside your head
you picking there off the ground
and put it rub it on your bosom
anything that you find
then you gone you ‘til you when
you coming this way again
root woman root woman
root woman root woman
sifting dirt in your hands
got no cane there bent down low
what can you do for a man
knotty hair kinked on your head
black dirty feet in the sand
what the good is there about you
here i caint understand
root woman root woman
root woman root woman
finding what it you see
how come your eyes why they never
dont they look here at me
aint there sump’n for your hands
who sit’n here in this chair
so what the matter dont you dig
way up on in here somewhere
root woman root woman
root woman root woman
there just like you aint seen
acting strange you left along
so make it seem like you mean
but like the rest just by yourself
somewhere along in a dream
there spinning ‘round inside your head
in here where like you aint seen
root woman root woman
root woman root woman
root la-da-da-daaaaaaaaaaaa
a’haaaaa a’haaaaa a’haaaaa
root woman root woman
root woman root woman
root LA-da-da-daaaaaaaaaaaa
root woman root woman
root woman roor woman
root LA-da-da-daaaaaaaaaaaa

drowning on in themm’d knowning rivers . . . (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

drowning on in themm’d knowning rivers
(ensconcing inside this blurring obscuring)

woman on in’hur way (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

woman on in’hur way

an’hur here sitting there standing tall
lean’n over in’ur front door
where’ur at some where
in the hollow of’ur arms
runn’n ‘round’n’round in’ur head

hur here in there on’ur knees
in hur abandoning underground
begging scared in hur softly spill’n
cussing and crudely drifting on
eyes closed down feel’n ‘round
try’n’tuh see’ur self found

mazinged . . . (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

mazinged
(mazing-duh in thuh *Canterburying-duh)

in a slow low mo’ humping sound
some where-ing-duh in’us head
turning over’n’over in a masturbating rhyme
syncopating marching to a synthesizing time
in a slow low mo’ humping sound

formed us warm born delta brown’s
hardly wandering ‘round amongst’us
found here and there bound
way down underground
in a slow low mo’ humping sound
some where-ing-duh in’us head
turning over’n’over in a masturbating rhyme
syncopating marching to a synthesizing time
in a slow low mo’ humping sound

us strangers here staring
running out at us selves
crashing on into on into one another
scattering on narrowing dirt paths
in a   slow   low   mo’ humping sound
some where-ing-duh in’us head
turning over’n’over in a masturbating rhyme
syncopating marching to a synthesizing time
in a   slow   low   mo’ humping sound
in a   slow   low   mo’ humping sound

*Canterbury is an extremely impoverished “ghetto”
in Mantego Bay, Jamaica.

JAMAICAN SUITE-TING . . . (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

JAMAICAN SUITE-TING
(for Jean Toomer in Brooklyn)

the drumming it forgotten
in rhyming rhythm-d refrains
sorcering-d tongues de-juice-ing the cane
over turn’n-d in de palms
of slicken-d slaved hands
the cane in here de-juice-ing-d
in rhyming rhythm-d refrains

the big white house
still on me back it be
me head it holding it down
inside where under-the-neath
i herding me in here with shuffling hands
me drowning me in my lap
with my mis-forgot african

dark legs get they strong
through in slow dancing the sung
en-trancing-d ‘round in things
‘bout me i dont understand
i burying-d here in this fleshing-d
of my mis-forgot african

a-homing-d . . . (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

when i go home
when i go home
when i go home
when i go home
when i go home
when i go home
when i go home
when i go home

**a-homing-d
(for little DeAngelo with his long thick braids)

my feet
they keep me reaching me back
where dont i still wanna go
to the frozen arms of plastic things
who they never quite feel cold
lobes i am surround this am-d
me they be damn-d
do not i care! and on i swear!!
i do not care and any wayyyyyyyyyyy!!!
a whiskeyed can dented i am-inged

in sneakered land
tried i can to rob the man
with my own bare hand
drunk not that i wuz
where lost here is the glove
made this for my hand
for to warm how i can

left sucking i here the thumb
of some body this who unknown
bumping my head with syncopated drum
‘gainst me inside who me this i in
‘til no body i here
when no body they come

abstracting distracting contracting . . . (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

In our ever consuming desperation, we (all of us all) are lasciviously overdosing on hustling distractions of the brothelling enfoldings of our own perverse-a-nationing arms.
–Asili Ya Nadhiri–

churr-ing occurrings slurring blurrings
immersing in rueless demure-ing imbuings
blue-ing inside the walls of perjuring recurrings
!and who’s scared!
all us all of here seeing
freezing in the armless wanderings
baptizing mathematizings
of our smothering incurrings
He’s saying: “Still thuh glow dat show’n
in all what us know’n
it being as little less
and as much mighty mo’
depending how we want’n it so”

abstracting distracting contracting
(in memory of my father, an unbeknowst)
amongst the unknowing unknown)

and what
is the marrow of next
if not now
what is ever never
or never ever
but signs of a hapless distend
place is in between what
and distance a splicing of the same
a measuring in what frame
of some distain covering over
all those other slippery-ing things

now is here then
always swaddling in when
boundlesslying amen
every moment is sublime
but never fully fraught
always waiting here holding on
in all this whom we’re aught

parramore-inged-ing (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

(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

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drowning on in themm’d knowning rivers . . . (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

sundown peopling (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

BOOjuuing (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

drowning on in themm’d knowning rivers . . . (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

woman on in’hur way (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

mazinged . . . (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

JAMAICAN SUITE-TING . . . (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

a-homing-d . . . (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

abstracting distracting contracting . . . (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

parramore-inged-ing (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)