White Hoodz

 

Letz keep it real and talk cosmetic care:
You despise a white blonde—but ape her hair.
You celebrate Blackness, but lighten your skin;
Hate on white neighborhoods. Then you move in;
Blame us for everything, covet our goods . . .
Tell me once again about those white hoods.
Culturally appropriate: hair made straight:
Chemical process of permanent hate.

 


PROMPT 23: write a poem of your own that has multiple numbered sections. Attempt to have each section be in dialogue with the others, like a song where a different person sings each verse, giving a different point of view. Set the poem in a specific place that you used to spend a lot of time in, but don’t spend time in anymore.

 

 

As in the Days of Noah

If Cain shall be avenged sevenfold,
Then Lamech seventy-sevenfold.
(Genesis 4:23, 24)

 

Founding cities, slaying sons,
Cain’s descendants ran the guns.
Gangstas reigned, before the flood
Polygamy, hoochies, vengeance, blood…
Doubtful honor was defended;
Love waxed cold, revenge commended.
Lamech laid the lyrix down:
Bragging boasts from a violent clown;
Clueless at the coming deluge
Staking out his Cainite refuge
Before it all was swept away
In Noah’s long-awaited day.
Urban violence, thugs and beats,
Criminals clogging Enoch’s streets;
All the glory misbegotten:
Urban legends long forgotten.

A Delicate Kinzhal for Emily

Come Thee quickly to thy chamber !
As the fainting NATO hums
Reaching late his unused flower,
Kinzhal bees sting bashful lips.

Suitors enter round her Eden,
Count their airplanes,

And are lost in bombs.

 

The Kh-47M2 Kinzhal (in Russian: Х-47М2 Кинжал, “Dagger”, NATO reporting name Killjoy) is a Russian nuclear-capable hypersonic air-launched ballistic missile.
(Wikipedia)


PROMPT 22:

Find an Emily Dickinson poem – preferably one you’ve never previously read –
take out all the dashes and line breaks. Make it just one big block of prose.
Now, rebreak the lines. Add words where you want. Take out some words. Make your own poem.

Come slowly – Eden!

Lips unused to Thee –

Bashful – sip thy Jessamines –

As the fainting Bee –

Reaching late his flower,

Round her chamber hums –

Counts his nectars –

Enters – and is lost in Balms.