choral-lizing juba-lizing a . . .

choral-lizing juba-lizing       a stultifying dis-synergizing

coffling eyes numbing in the humm drumm sunging
of clamorous hustlers pluming in talented tenth–ing clubs
this ancient hubris   still scheming in gangs gangling on
leeching the blood of us all   spilling here looking
it mo’ insidious now nesting in nefarious vocalizings
anesthetizing synthesizings   of old rhythmating charms
dissolving all of us denying on in our rusing refusals
to just pause while here inside   and reverently muse
scared   we all stumbling running ‘round trying to hide
from this colding emptying   swelling torridly inside us
desperately fusing   propagating on out here  all around
aloning is eroding the sands of our beaches
swallowing ourselves on in our own entangling arms
playing to the blaring sirens of this persistent dismaying
coffling eyes numbing in the humm drumm sunging
of clamorous hustlers pluming in talented tenth–ing clubs
this ancient hubris   still scheming in gangs gangling on
leeching the blood of us all   spilling here looking
it mo’ insidious now nesting in nefarious vocalizings
anesthetizing synthesizings   of old rhythmating charms
dissolving all of us denying on in our rusing refusals
to just pause while here inside   and reverently muse
standing up leaning we feeling around on our knees
snorting vain delusions of masturbating hands
shuffling our scant aborting ponderings of why
consuming all everything grabbing way ‘fore it comes
there is no anchoring ground to which we will bound
hypnotically sucking our dry brittle bones of renown
and rehearsing our vaunting howling enthrallings
so you knowing my face is the one that’s in vogue
just in case it be the case that we come to be found
coffling eyes numbing in the humm drumm sunging
of clamorous hustlers pluming in talented tenth–ing clubs
this ancient hubris   still scheming in gangs gangling on
leeching the blood of us all   spilling here looking
it mo’ insidious now nesting in nefarious vocalizings
anesthetizing synthesizings   of old rhythmating charms
dissolving all of us denying on in our rusing refusals
to just pause while here inside   and reverently muse

Copyright © 2009 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