Escritas

Poems List

There's never been equality for

There's never been equality for me, Nor freedom in this 'homeland of the free.
👁️ 294

Hold fast to dreams for

Hold fast to dreams for if dreams die, life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly.
👁️ 201

No woman can be handsome

No woman can be handsome by the force of features alone, any more that she can be witty by only the help of speech.
👁️ 239

I swear to the LordI

I swear to the LordI still can't seeWhy Democracy meansEverybody but me.
👁️ 198

Hold fast to dreams, for

Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly.
👁️ 210

Wisdom and War

Wisdom and War

We do not care-
That much is clear.
Not enough
Of us care
Anywhere.
We are not wise-
For that reason,
Mankind dies.
To think
Is much against
The will.
Better-
And easier-
To kill.
👁️ 287

When Sue Wears Red

When Sue Wears Red

When Susanna Jones wears red
her face is like an ancient cameo
Turned brown by the ages.
Come with a blast of trumphets, Jesus!


When Susanna Jones wears red
A queen from some time-dead Egyptian night
Walks once again.
Blow trumphets, Jesus!


And the beauty of Susanna Jones in red
Burns in my heart a love-fire sharp like a pain.
Sweet silver trumphets, Jesus!
👁️ 313

Walkers with the Dawn

Walkers with the Dawn

Being walkers with the dawn and morning,
Walkers with the sun and morning,
We are not afraid of night,
Nor days of gloom,
Nor darkness--
Being walkers with the sun and morning.
👁️ 299

Trumpet Player

Trumpet Player

The Negro
With the trumpet at his lips
Has dark moons of weariness
Beneath his eyes
where the smoldering memory
of slave ships
Blazed to the crack of whips
about thighs

The negro
with the trumpet at his lips
has a head of vibrant hair
tamed down,
patent-leathered now
until it gleams
like jetwere
jet a crown

the music
from the trumpet at his lips
is honey
mixed with liquid fire
the rhythm
from the trumpet at his lips
is ecstasy
distilled from old desire-

Desire
that is longing for the moon
where the moonlight's but a spotlight
in his eyes,
desire
that is longing for the sea
where the sea's a bar-glass
sucker size

The Negro
with the trumpet at his lips
whose jacket
Has a fine one-button roll,
does not know
upon what riff the music slips

It's hypodermic needle
to his soul
but softly
as the tune comes from his throat
trouble
mellows to a golden note
👁️ 367

To Artina

To Artina

I will take you heart.
I will take your soul out of your body
As though I were God.
I will not be satisfied
With the touch of your hand
Nor the sweet of your lips alone.
I will take your heart for mine.
I will take your soul.
I will be God when it comes to you.
👁️ 440

Comments (0)

Log in to post a comment.

NoComments