Thursday, July 5, 2012

POEM-TREE! SRS! ORLY! (only one face ORLY)


but that is long gone, and this: the story, yes: there was a young black boy

two years removed from mosi

thick and bespectacled, and breathing with his tongue between his fat lips
and drooling as fat as he packed on that continuous seat
now, see
maybe they tore it from his fingers
into the corner garbage can
thunked him upside the noggin sumpin' maggots
but now see
crisped bonfire or smooth sailin' across to the bum on the other side of the D
but something...
something will stir;
sir got, sir, he got LYRIC POETRY
so thumping a Bible his veins will leap
and maybe, i hope maybe against their snarls
(that i ignored, being White and forgetting
my own childhood) they will kiss him good night
pretending the book is just a thing, a thing
they cannot fear, that cannot keep him down in their broken mattresses
and smile, and beam benovelence on his ten-year-old head:
this pink-and-purple-striped book of obsolete obsolescence colonic
with white columns declaring THIS IS THE SEVENTIES

Tonight at Noon

A Poem by Adrian Henri


Tonight at noon
Supermarkets will advertise 3p extra on everything
Tonight at noon
Children from happy families will be sent to live in a home
Elephants will tell each other human jokes
America will declare peace on Russia
World War I generals will sell poppies on the street on November 11th
The first daffodils of autumn will appear
When the leaves fall upwards to the trees

Tonight at noon
Pigeons will hunt cats through city backyards
Hitler will tell us to fight on the beaches and on the landing fields
A tunnel full of water will be built under Liverpool
Pigs will be sighted flying in formation over Woolton
And Nelson will not only get his eye back but his arm as well
White Americans will demonstrate for equal rights
In front of the Black house
And the monster has just created Dr. Frankenstein

Girls in bikinis are moonbathing
Folksongs are being sung by real folk
Art galleries are closed to people over 21
Poets get their poems in the Top 20
There's jobs for everybody and nobody wants them
In back alleys everywhere teenage lovers are kissing in broad daylight
In forgotten graveyards everywhere the dead will quietly bury the living
You will tell me you love me
Tonight at noon
courtesy Rae Johnson

care of Lyric Poetry in the hands of a bored kid on

the train waiting to get to the beach.

love it like i did. it's a real peach,

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