CULTURAL AMNESIA
I’d fancied living years ere I was born,
in a time when sorrows soared higher than harvest-corn,
as a brown-child playing-absent under
cotton-shade,
and ere my manly ambitions were fully-made,
i was reaping gilded-crops…. annointed… (and coronated)... by their thorns…
My freedman’s-skin coveted the dread embellishments of slaves,
and my embattled spirit courted temptings from an early grave,
its anguish bled abandonment of
privileged-ways,
erased the careless handsomenesses of hallelujah-days,
of sweeter times... nothing but the void of living them was saved...
Life rolled like cannon-blasts of concentrically-screamed despair,
each hellish-circle having taken vows to freeze me there,
mistook my visitation as a hunting-score,
hence… its antebellum realness could not intrigue me anymore,
inspiring but an urgency for leaving there…
I became the somber-gratitude of my return,
shared it’s wisdom whilst the discipline of its sacrifices burned,
singing the blood-indigo-gospels of survival times,
their rending-pulse bleeding-out all human struggle as cathartic rhyme,
an invocation of those sucrosic freedoms suffering had earned...
I’d sucked the fumes of hardship through every kiss,
filtering each lovemaking-interstice of manly bliss,
appearing to balance a cosmologic equation for truth,
where piety perpetrated its resurrection of an inviolate-youth,
where long lost in the plumbless wilds of cultural amnesia… (and ne’er-missed),
is the story of human freedom and it’s makers’-list…
Written By BIGDADDY BLUES
I’d fancied living years ere I was born,
in a time when sorrows soared higher than harvest-corn,
as a brown-child playing-absent under
cotton-shade,
and ere my manly ambitions were fully-made,
i was reaping gilded-crops…. annointed… (and coronated)... by their thorns…
My freedman’s-skin coveted the dread embellishments of slaves,
and my embattled spirit courted temptings from an early grave,
its anguish bled abandonment of
privileged-ways,
erased the careless handsomenesses of hallelujah-days,
of sweeter times... nothing but the void of living them was saved...
Life rolled like cannon-blasts of concentrically-screamed despair,
each hellish-circle having taken vows to freeze me there,
mistook my visitation as a hunting-score,
hence… its antebellum realness could not intrigue me anymore,
inspiring but an urgency for leaving there…
I became the somber-gratitude of my return,
shared it’s wisdom whilst the discipline of its sacrifices burned,
singing the blood-indigo-gospels of survival times,
their rending-pulse bleeding-out all human struggle as cathartic rhyme,
an invocation of those sucrosic freedoms suffering had earned...
I’d sucked the fumes of hardship through every kiss,
filtering each lovemaking-interstice of manly bliss,
appearing to balance a cosmologic equation for truth,
where piety perpetrated its resurrection of an inviolate-youth,
where long lost in the plumbless wilds of cultural amnesia… (and ne’er-missed),
is the story of human freedom and it’s makers’-list…
Written By BIGDADDY BLUES
