| toast and tea |
gjenkins
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I am the post canonized pretense of victory,
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soaked and soggy
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of tight fitting shoes owned by slavery,
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words crack my walls of
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African dust me, God saving me
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from me
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as I lie awake in some new time of
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forever, beauties dance, laughing at
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cranked wars, bombs sailing over cities
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as the insomniacs watch
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over their sleeping children, fast
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awakenings of dull
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midnight thoughts, the
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cries have no way out, the ceiling
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only two inches
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away from salvation, the
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tv buzzes into a symphony
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of jagged corners, life grinding
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the flapping tongues,
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the eyes shut, the teeth and
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legs make way for the last
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kiss of the night
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12 Feb 07 |
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Comments:
I am a poor interpreter.
I like toast and tea.
— jenakajoffer
...meaning that I don't get the relation of title to poem,
OR
"words crack my walls of African dust me"...
Jen-
— jenakajoffer
the title and poem relationship are only in substance, my grandmother fed this to me for breakfast before sending me off to school, because we had nothingelse to eat and it carries on in some sense of survival. "words crack my walls of African dust me" is a metaphor for disconnect of ancestors and language, I am dust of something such as land and country.
— gjenkins
yo g,
thank you for shedding some light on your poem,
but even with your explanation, I am bothered by "me" in line5.
I still don't understand that you are the dust by your way of words here,
is all.
I do like your poem tho, nice.
Jen-
— jenakajoffer
thanks Jen, I will work on soon
— gjenkins
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