Poems + ARt

The voice is from a crackling radio at the back of the room
Me and mama dance in the kitchen
While summertime pours in thru open windows
And boys still holding their defenses shuffle back from war
We sing them to sleep
And they can't tell us who won
Because no one ever wins when the victors been decided in advance 
And there was no vote to decide upon the rules
And there was no vote to decide whether or not we go over there to exert will and chase some demented idea
There was no vote
So our boys got trouble sleeping now
But me and ma been dancin in the kitchen ever since before the fighting started
Which is to say before the bogus construct of time
Which is to say me and mama dance on a dime
Henceforth I only fight in rhyme
With fall come 67 new books
Winter brings new languages
And I spin in the heaven of your righteousness
Nothing's wrong that lives
Nothing's wrong that gives
20,000 years later boys on the train try in vein to to feign importance through the memorization of sneaker types
No more night lights
No more love with a lower case l
Only uppercase
You seen those Jordan's nikes cons adidas
You're feelin it!
Spinning brain ejaculating sheathe thinning toward the darkness and light
Spinning veil thinning heart ejaculates into the light
I am yours I belong to you
My heart a winged creature
Flutters bloody
Your heart, a power tool
I will only fight in art from now on
There comes a point when sense, pure common sense, no longer makes sense
And
The
Time
Is
Now
Is what me and mama used to say, dancing on the dirt floor of the kitchen.