| Toccata Cheese |
Ajambo
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My heart it beats
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faster than a woodpecker
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pecks at wood
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Faster than a barefooted slave
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running from his owner.
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Faster than the smalll hand on
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my digital clock;
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rotates at 360 degrees per 12 hours.
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My heart has worms
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my hair has perms
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my crotch has germs
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the worms
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squirm
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in my heart.
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The perms perm
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in my hair.
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The germs germinate
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in my crotch.
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The small hand rotates on my
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crotch watch.
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The chickens in the den,
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signal it's time for me to awake.
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It was all a dream, it is time for me
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to go to work
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modeling my hands.
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I experimented with rhyme in this one. This one really speaks to me. This also, will published in my books entitled, "Chickens in the Den--If You Don't Buy this, You're Racist." It will be out in May 2007
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10 Mar 07 |
(define the words in this poem)
(6 more poems by this author)
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Comments:
This is going to be put into a book? You can't be serious. This poem makes no sense. What does chickens in the den have to do with anything? And the title. What's up with that?
— unknown
You are simply to simple to understand this poem, I will not hold it against you.
— Ajambo
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