poetry critical

online poetry workshop

toast and tea

I am the post canonized pretense of victory,
soaked and soggy          
of tight fitting shoes owned by slavery,
words crack my walls of
African dust me, God saving me  
from me
as I lie awake in some new time of
forever, beauties dance, laughing at
cranked wars, bombs sailing over cities  
as the insomniacs watch
over their sleeping children, fast
awakenings of dull
midnight thoughts, the
cries have no way out, the ceiling
only two inches
away from salvation, the
tv buzzes into a symphony
of jagged corners, life grinding  
the flapping tongues,
the eyes shut, the teeth and
legs make way for the last
kiss of the night

12 Feb 07

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I am a poor interpreter.
I like toast and tea.
 — jenakajoffer

...meaning that I don't get the relation of title to poem,
"words crack my walls of African dust me"...

 — 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.
 — jenakajoffer

thanks Jen, I will work on soon
 — gjenkins