shaking in our own booty shaking
(this all seems warming
as we’re spinning to conceal )

now we’re here surrendering
surrendering on in this then     
and us screaming so loudly
 we aint even hearing
us here surrendering then  

blatantly we’re wantonly raping ourselves
ensconcing in colding puppeteering arms
of our public auctionationing ‘jaculations
!so howcome it is we aint come-ing! 

and we keeping on pretending
 like as we’re all   we’re just pretendings
at being what we’re pretending
 that we ain’t wanting  
this what’us wanna gone be
wallowing over and over
in this darkening light
of brass mas-tur-ra-bationing mimes
in line behind our own hypnotic rimes
so making just like “it aint so really so”
how we’re all swallowing swallowings
of our own mis-er-rationings of us

Copyright © 2010 Asili Ya Nadhiri

hustling our absurdings in place

this enlarging letharging retarding em-barge-ing
is sopping my blood!it won’t leave!
how come this is that it lasting
when everything else it all changing so fast
just won’t you try and suppose too
that what if i’m still just might be left
some where here in here too screaming loud!!!
wanton-ly silenced . . . silencing in our never ever minding
just like we all made making us all coming to do
and so blatantly we letting us plundered
fetal cowarding in grand pretensious flauntings
plundering on in public vicarious fondlings
en-strangulating as we’re swallowing this tail
of our own beguiling serpentining guile
just won’t you try and suppose too
that what if i’m still just might be left
some where here in here too screaming loud!!!
wanton-ly silenced . . . silencing in our never ever minding
just like we all made making us all coming to do
and we’re all just rainbowed colored desperatings
peeping out of each other    syncopating in laughter syncopated
posed posing posed for disappearing on
in the bubbular pits of our own omnivorating arms
waiting scared! with nothing else to make last
‘cause everything all it all changing so fast
just won’t you try and suppose too
that what if i’m still just might be left
some where here in here too screaming loud!!!
wanton-ly silenced . . . silencing in our never ever minding
trying to making just like this all gone just be lasting
‘cause we all made making us all coming to do

*please note:  This is not the original layout of this tonal drawing;
publishing constraints of this website are necessitating this change.
Copyright © 2009 Asili Ya Nadhiri

circlings 

desperating
desperations
desperating
in desperations
desperationing 

Copyright © 2013 Asili Ya Nadhiri

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!

Copyright © 2000 Asili Ya Nadhiri

friday night quiet’n
(a portrait) 

this dark it fulled
of longed africaned legs
they done-d running on
there is no distant drumming
no thickened plum lips they humming
no sundown peopling
laying sun
it going-d

grey worn abandoned-ning corners
they smooth angular neckbones standing
rubbing together dry grinding
in this low loud bellowing silence
of themm-d rhythm-mated cold
they soft body tones 

no shadows to mark the time
on and on and on go passing
ancient ghosts they give no shelter
for the bared naked asses
the dreams there is
none brung that waken
the eyes who wide they dozing 

this dark it fulled
of longed africaned legs
they done-d running on
there is no distant drumming
no thickened plum lips they humming
no sundown peopling
laying sun
it going-d

Copyright © 2003 Asili Ya Nadhiri

nowing when remembering then 

in the syncopating rumbling there
in the throats of dark men sweating
swallowing water from the mouth
of clear mason jars
in the lap of hot tobacco fields
and in the evening smelling good
of charcoal women frying fish
popping there in round black belly pots
on bright red embers burning slowly
there’s a low steady hummming
here telling of a hunger there deep
and praying in the rhythmic cradle
of a real fertile soil 

in the words sounding there
through cocoa hands rubbing clothes
‘cross the rusting ribs of old washing boards
and in Miss Glossy ‘crossing the street
there git’n along in her white uniform
proudly laughing in another day’s done
there’s the sweet belly tasting
of something round and a real dark brown
growing here in a rich delta ground
that’s making me real hungry
and wanting this something more 

in what then is it now-ing
the low drumming hummming
sitting there on the shores of Sahara coasts
shading us here in the chains
of bone dancing brothers profaning
this that it wrapping us warm
in the worm spawning bellies
of Jonah’s slave whales
and here carrying us on there
through savannas of preambling sands
perversenating in the palmings
of pomp and rapacious hands   

nowing here we’re there-ing then
in the canniballing drouthing
of colding and lonelying desert forms
invisibling wanderings in our wondering
now when in then am i be finding it now

Copyright © 1993, 2013 Asili Ya Nadhiri

! . . . ? . . . ! 

who is this i said was me
the one outside through whom i see
or somebody else i wish i was
what’s this i feel i cannot see
this hole it here inside of me
is i the fault for what i be
or this scared wrapped here
around my knees
and what can i supposed to so
if nobody sees nobody in here
not even me
who dat gone come and rub me warm
’cause there aint no yesterday
so how come it i always have to cry
and why it never nobody else besides me
who’s the one that supposed to die

Copyright © 1993 Asili Ya Nadhiri

DIS-FUNCTIONING-D
(us all mirroring-d here
just like we being this here somebody) 

sown deep in my hands
whom i is supposed
this what whom i is-inged
bending down over me
swirling around in between
the pale dark toes 

disguising disguises
walking is is i pleased
i is is i is!
hold out in my hand
come back i this same
is i is is i is

so loud inside
inside it so loud
the sound it drowns
 the sound that drowns
the who that found leaving
from where it in here behind
the who in us whom
this echo impounds
DOOM DE DOMP DOOOOM
DE DOMP DOMP DOOOOM DE DOMP DOOOOM
DOOM DE DOMP DOOOOM
DE DOMP DOMP DOOOOM DE DOMP DOOOOM
DOOM DE DOMP DOOOOM
DE DOMP DOMP DOOOOM DE DOMP DOOOOM
DOOM DE DOMP DOOOOM
DE DOMP DOMP DOOOOM DE DOMP DOOOOM
DOOM DE DOMP DOOOOM
DE DOMP DOMP DOOOOM DE DOMP DOOOOM

Copyright © 2003 Asili Ya Nadhiri

2
inside the stillness of a dawn

a tear is here
breathing softly
in round brown eyes
covering things you don’t reveal
and singing in the word songs
roaring quietly there inside you
and pouring on in still waters
waiting and waiting
for the flowing rivers
fat dark preacher hands
and preying ivory smiles come near
grabbing around you in silk white gloves
and smooth rhythmic pearls formed
in the chant of dark plum lips
so close you come in stubborn hungers
drumming the echos of hot throbbing sounds
tempting parched lands
of a moist underground
and then
after midnight you bathe
and begin your prayer again

Copyright © 1988 Asili Ya Nadhiri