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Mueller Report: long wait, no orgasm.

Barr says Biden probe unlikely.  Liar.

Supreme Court takes case.  Uh oh.

Tell me again how Bernie won.

Florida man sees opening.  Dick stuck.

Faye’s inner battle: which Cheez-Its.  Buffalo.

My face in your mirror: handsome.

I am your lover.  I think.

Deuteragonist means second.  Is that me?

Poem bursts out of rock: pleasure.

In solidarity with Black Lives Matter, TNB Poetry has created this space for BIPOC voices to shine. We will be publishing work by Black poets daily.  Black Lives Matter.


Is it a sin I get drunk with home?
That I fall in love so much?
I take dearly shots from the ardor
brewed in the states. I pledge to
serve my nation and bring glory home.

When I was born, no one reminded me
that I’m a helpless bastard; no one
reminded me of the day my stay starts
to due. Not for once has it crossed
my mind to think I’m too convenient
to stay, that I’m but a black-headed
threat to the place I call my home.

In solidarity with Black Lives Matter, TNB Poetry has created this space for BIPOC voices to shine. We will be publishing work by Black poets daily.  Black Lives Matter.


for N’Jadaka

 

Share? Huh.  Naw, son.  Y’all act like

air is some infinite resource. Some body

gon’ need to make a speedy exit off this

here block. Once, before I knew better, I did

like y’all taught me to do in grade school

when I was lost & walked up to the nearest

cop & asked how a boy could get off. & he

drank me in & said

 

on the tip of my cocked gun, ______.

Redrum

By KnightKrawler

Poem

In solidarity with Black Lives Matter, TNB Poetry has created this space for BIPOC voices to shine. We will be publishing work by Black poets daily.  Black Lives Matter.


(This poem dedicates itself to the city of Jacksonville and its astonishingly high murder rate. It’s sad that every time I perform this piece in the hometown, majority of the audience doesn’t even seem to realize that I’m talking about Jacksonville. Hopefully this poem will get to someone that needs to hear it.)

This city has developed…a taste for something
The more it drinks…
The more it wants…
No matter what…spirit you crave for
You drink enough…it gets you drunk

There was a girl…that read a book
And for this…the girl was shot
This did not…begin the tragedy
But it made us…stop and watch

In solidarity with Black Lives Matter, TNB Poetry has created this space for BIPOC voices to shine. We will be publishing work by Black poets daily.  Black Lives Matter.


What do I have to do to be human? Do I have to breathe?
Do I have to scream?
Do I have to cry?
Do I have to die?
What do I have to do to be human?
Do I have to smile?
Do I have to speak?
Do I have to be mute?
Do I have to see?
What do I have to do to be human?
What do I have to do to be human?
Nothing. I just am.
And if you gave it any thought, you’re part of the problem.

In solidarity with Black Lives Matter, TNB Poetry has created this space for BIPOC voices to shine. We will be publishing work by Black poets daily.  Black Lives Matter.


Brown skin is a crime
Black skin is a death sentence
Enforced by those that use imagination as “laws”
Policed by those with fetishes of submission
The criminalization of melanin
Gives them an “excuse” to turn you in
Rape of the masses
Not enough bodies for caskets
The human spirit of melanated people
To find happiness in a volcano
The human spirit of melanated people
To find hope in a grave
The human spirit of melanated people

In solidarity with Black Lives Matter, TNB Poetry has created this space for BIPOC voices to shine. We will be publishing work by Black poets daily.  Black Lives Matter.


In the throes of war,
the body keeps
rigid
in FIGHT or flight.

chests-tighten.

sharp in—and–out-in-out-in-in mouth breaths keep the fire RAGING.
blood floooows to hindbrains before spilling.

as I scream “Americaaaaaaaa, Americaaaaaaaaa”…

In solidarity with Black Lives Matter, TNB Poetry has created this space for BIPOC voices to shine. We will be publishing work by Black poets daily.  Black Lives Matter.


You knew your time was short and Umi discovered this news too. She said on one of your first dates she read your lifeline and it barely reached the base of your thumb. Somehow I knew.

Do you remember how I used to say that I wouldn’t get married unless you would officiate? I don’t know how I knew, or whether I thought this ultimatum would preserve you.

Perhaps knowing that I was in good male hands would grant us both peace

In solidarity with Black Lives Matter, TNB Poetry has created this space for BIPOC voices to shine. We will be publishing work by Black poets daily.  Black Lives Matter.


Inspired by the story of Charles Wootton, born in Bermuda. This black man was killed by a white mob in Liverpool – he was chased into the River Mersey and pelted with stones until he drowned on 5 June 1919.

 

History will haunt

until it is acknowledged.

A slosh of settled attitude

enveloped a body,

the heart was a river run dry –

of blood.

Charles Wooton fled 18 Upper Pitt Street,

Liverpool?

A question rather than a bed,

always on the look-out,

eyes in the back of the head.

In solidarity with Black Lives Matter, TNB Poetry has created this space for BIPOC voices to shine. We will be publishing work by Black poets daily.  Black Lives Matter.


You take my breath
So you can
Breathe
Deeply
Safely
In your privilege
My air
No air
Now in my lungs
Because I’ve been
Holding my tongue
A word spoken…

In solidarity with Black Lives Matter, TNB Poetry has created this space for BIPOC voices to shine. We will be publishing work by Black poets daily.  Black Lives Matter.


The bold arc of your odyssey: from soul-shunting slavery to sweeping vision,
From bales and blisters to blackboard chalk and opened books—
Dear Booker, as in your flinty era of lynch-ropes and urgent witness,
Brother after luckless brother is consigned to runaway gunfire,
Though they claim this purblind, punch-clock carnage,
This jeopardy (our children turned to carrion in Ferguson, our water turned     poison in Flint) is not a form of broadcast war.

Booker, you died in 1915—in a cat’s-cradle of malignant war,
Human beacon, slave-no-more, captain of perpetual vision,
In a roiling era of gas masks and carnage,
Each battle-lost son a poppy blooming on a black lapel, or pressed into a gilt-edged book,
Each staunch fusilier surrendered to the incessant gunfire
Of Flanders Fields—conveyed in soldier-poets’ verses of keen witness—

In solidarity with Black Lives Matter, TNB Poetry has created this space for BIPOC voices to shine. We will be publishing work by Black poets daily.  Black Lives Matter.


I. Plantation Tour (One Star!)

“Vacationers have been sharing their disdain
for guides emphasizing the annals of slavery.”

Let me tell you, what I didn’t need,
Cher Guilt-instilling Know-it-all,

Was a boring-as-sawdust lecture at Belle Fleur
About the bone-breaking perils of slavery!

FYI, Miss Firebrand Liberal,
It wasn’t all that bad: I’ve heard

Plantation slaves often sang happily
While collecting cotton—

Look, I can’t possibly be racist because—
Get it!—I’m Sicilian-American: see,

My people never enslaved anybody!

In solidarity with Black Lives Matter, TNB Poetry has created this space for BIPOC voices to shine. We will be publishing work by Black poets daily.  Black Lives Matter.


There’s no kindness in your eyes / the way you look at me, it’s just not right”—Hilary Duff

I used to know how to save the world / now I don’t know anything anymore”—Justin Chin

 

(—Once in a blue moon, maybe several times a week,
I write a truly great American poem;
Here I will tell you abt 8th Street . . .
my rules for American life—:

Generally: TV always; no sharia law; don’t say gay; bathrooms are sacred; no hugging/touching (men); don’t pay attention to politics; really, don’t, they only need you every 4 years; small talk is an art & national pastime; acceptable small talk topics include complaining abt wife, kids, kids’ sports, schedules, Chinese boss; even if you hate sports, you have to pretend; candy corn is the worst; mac-n-cheese is the best side. 

In solidarity with Black Lives Matter, TNB Poetry has created this space for BIPOC voices to shine. We will be publishing work by Black poets daily.  Black Lives Matter.


So you’re intent on devouring the sins
Of the plundering country

That murdered your pedestrian sons,
Your seldom-cop-safe children,

That tore the defiant music
From your paragon chest, the inmost

Prayer from your winter-cracked
Yet rancor-less lips—

Exorcist, it won’t be easy!
Sin-eater, would-be saint, beware!

In solidarity with Black Lives Matter, TNB Poetry has created this space for BIPOC voices to shine. We will be publishing work by Black poets daily.  Black Lives Matter.


a White friend was expressing how upset he was
by the burning and looting and random violence
being displayed by the thugs fighting our police.
He noted that calm protests and talking is best.

I gave his comments consideration and then said,

when has talking peace and protesting quietly
prevented Black men and boys from being
randomly targeted, victimized, murdered,
imprisoned and accepted here in a land
of free and brave like you, my friend?