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parachutes

Submitted by emeka ozurumba on Fri, 2015-06-12 10:52

spouse to dinner in a moonlight
earths playground in the sky
lonely planets of wind, and fire oasis
in slow waves stroboscope , sorcerers sorbet
a polished steward stillborn and quadriplegic
clamorous for earths harmony, stiffnecked
for procreation, slavish that a dog reprimand rigor

fortunes can easily change in a casino
a gambler reprobates to see the black monkey
unglazed terrarium container in a zoo
on a roadway of encroaching futility:
of heritage;pointless pogroms, plushy plutonium,poker-face
reckon drank many rum, just to stay afloat
encumbrance; was still a thing of guilt recidivist

stifle trammels of black pigmentation , rubella remembrance
naphtha flames in reciamation of pussy willow
last time myalgia recap of the furry catkins
copper pyrites and my pyretic longing,
i wish that they were money, and Aladdin's lamp
so that ruche frill of fabric: the black skin
renege scions;paying for the Requiem of pervaded feat

Last few words: 
in this poem , the recidivists which are the ones in guilt of the pogrom of culture are the colonial masters ,turning their thought of sub human races to them , with a slavish and terrorist containment keeping lesser than theirs always in reciamation{ waste place.] truly that is what the African continent has become after all this ages of suppression., but the irony is also like one drinking to float away all his problem in overcoming vertigo which is really the source of inspiration for those casted out of their lands either through slavery or minds in captivity, feeling of inferiority to the complexes of the black race and drown of their own natural heritage white washed like washer words. one condones that the fact of a still born birth dying of sudden paralysis and lack luster of tensed muscles feeling even happier to be dead and stiff necked than to be born to such misery of inter racial abuses , which truly are inhuman
Editing stage: 
Editing - rough draft

Comments

Seren

Sat, 2015-06-13 15:44

Seren's picture

I know what little I've learned of your culture would make me unable to make a valid comment on this poem, I will say some of it feels a little confused and unclear of meaning, there is a fine line between being mysterious or maybe fanciful in our language use, but you don't want to lose the reader and I feel that this poem lacks clarity you have a wonderful way of using words you just have to shape that into content easily understood by your fans and readers

I look forward to the edits and a greater understanding of this story and the reality of your culture and life

Warm regards Jayne x

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

Esker

Sun, 2015-06-14 00:40

Esker's picture

the thin veneer depositing the mass weight
like a cloud of dark depository encumberance
tilled by the wagers the wags in rags
turning living to deaths determination
churning earth to gain nuggets
the feast of created fermented yeast
turning tortured realms to spin fast yeild
Plutonium theme I like
the poker face radiant control
poison created by production

Requim of Pervaded Feat..an excellent Line!
and more...

but then Ive read much political in my time
Stienback John compared I think his workmen
women the lost and damned to the irony
you write here..Not as poorly done by
but the feeling of the downtrod upon
their survival was his story not poetic work
and Ive read much of survival by much
and all...survival and its blossoms of
joy....but when its bleak....it is what it is...
I like your writing....the word useage
I find engagin..Its like painting in much
vastly different color theme then Im
used too....

Thank You!

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