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A Melanic Monograph

Posted on November 27, 2022November 27, 2022 By Celandria Foster No Comments on A Melanic Monograph
if i could only touch the grass
i’d morph into roots that dig 1,000 miles deep and
i’d never come up for air.
i’d seek to be the Earth’s core and
i could never be torn away from the soul of humanity.
i’m lost in things unseen.
i believe that i am what i think,
so i’m kissing my newborn child,
	building a bridge,
	feeding the poor – 
making my Life Supreme.
i’m trying to reincarnate back into my 1st capsule.
i’m at the edge of God’s tongue
and He spoke me into a Galaxy.
i spun and spawned,
birthed novas with my pen.
i was a sun spot in your eye;
a comet like speaker.
i whizzed into the darkness
that was womb,
that was love.
children of the world need to know that
their past is not Nintendo
and our elders need to realize
these will be our leaders.
i just want to be a mystic
who lives on magic potions.
i survive off of the sustenance of spirits,
and music
and art.
i want to be a nomad in the desert
praying 5 times a day to
streams coz they naturally flow
and don’t stop even when barriers are in the way.
if people understood me
we’d greet each other with a Holy Kiss.
i’m the simplest atom.
i’m Jerusalem with wise men.
like the rainbow i bend to seal my covenant.
candles and incantations swirl my soul.
there’s Africa’s soil at the bottom of my feet.
my Mother used to save dirt and eat pinches of it
i never understood until Acient Kemet spoke to me of Neter
and i prostrate to
child births and dreadlocks.
i’m high on Gnostic scrolls.
i feel like a Coptic priest when walking amongst these dead-
they forgot how to live/
to see through their chakras
and transcend space.
i sit tall like majestic giraffe on the plains
and low like scarab.
i’d like to live in a land where
pineapple and rice is a National dish
and gazing in your lover’s eyes is a social custom
sipping tea and humming hymns is a past time,
the sky is my telephone,
eagles my emails,
religion is poetry.
we hold hands around sad faces
until they warm like sun beams.
moon light says be sweet to each other.
stars talk to us like neighbours.
how do you love a drum?
beat by beat.
and instruments be our fingers
in hair/on faces
making sounds ooze from lips like peaches and plums.
prison is when you give up and
hell is what you feel like while there.
heaven is enlightenment from the bliss of ignorance
let the only wars be fought over
which proverb you love best.
and disease should only be blank sheets of paper
that we cure with
vowels, verbs and verses.
let’s be vessels for manifestation.
let’s suckle on the milk of sages/
find secrets in
stain glass windows or rock candy.
remember sugar water raised Queens and
mayonnaise sandwiches, Kings.
we simple folk like acorns.
the fall is the best thing to happen.
the oak lives within.
the oak lives within.
the crash makes us sprout.
carry me on the wind to Syria.
wrap me in the silk of prophets.
let me burn at the stake with witches and pagans
cause some people have to be odd
so others can get even.
i spoke a riddle from heaven’s revelations
out came: NYDESHA-AL-HAMDU-L’ILLAH.
i’ll be the eye of Horus
for generations to come.
i’m stuck on Solomon’s oath.
i’m lost only in me
where i find all the answers.
this is only a prayer
that never closes
and begins
where it ends
only to start at deathlessness
which is birthlessness
so i be
forever
amen


poetry Tags:Kenneth Foster Jr.

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