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

deafpanda.

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             and 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,