My Coro by Jodekss

Life used to be fun like this
As heaven looks calmly seated there like that
Even the worst of the herbs grow close fine so good next to herbs
And rains would do us visits in due seasons before we even know it you’d know
The sun in his own microbiosis would seek our farms early enough so
lettin’ us have enlightenment and enjoyment at twilight’s fall just like that.
Each day was bright and big and appealed to our senses
Our clothes were mould of straws and pebbles in dirt rest on all heads
Our horses were not horses. Our horses are black busy beatles
Dirt and dirt they roll into one and as we had worked a bit to reap for bounty intake
We ride on their scaly backs as we collect and their dirt, our fathers do smoke then and laugh like giraffe.
We used to have no class but a community of one mind
When my cheeks were as strong as yours stand
Shining at their peak and rotund as you jump reflecting our sun in this North
And the game which we used to play you are playing clothed with uniforms
And leafy badges looking white with White’s ideal logos on ’em
We did not share but straws of pants
Kala, green cabbage of skirts and bananas, yellow for hairdo
And bloods of hen or roosters for lipstick we had.
Young and agile in that youthhood and we understood
Truth of time and facts of beings and not being
Older we grew than your fathers and mothers be again
No vacuum no fain nor failure
No definitions like you now know now from rolls today
Education tho’ appeared good but listen to the next coro before I rest.
After creed had to steal your stolen pride
Because we are black while tho’ our chameleons change similarly as
Alien philosophies and simplex idiosyncrasies made their leaders lead to hang leaders innards on ’em, bamboo sticks and spiny cactus seeds they had long planted elsewhere to to to boom boom boom
And the belief they speak for they kill for to speak for
And the leaders they speak for they kill, and still speak for
And the kids they slaughter for they slaughter, slaughtering for
And fine pants they lay with to caress and cool their libido with they behead for, they behead
And the farms they boast for they match on and spoil with fires and lousy bangs from round macaroons.
Rabbling legs rustling the dried décor leafs leave on the earth
With sticks that spread ministries who cause red milks to ooze when speak
in ‘ingsoc’. And those long dog family with louder barks. Bite you and your dead hands and legs and those not dead to being zombies —
Looking harmlessly rabid, soaked in woes of rabies
And we can go to check
We can go and check
Stop dancing, to go and check
Continue dancing, to go and check
Oh! Don’t dare go and check
the valleys they came through with iron sticks as their spokespersons are still traps and
Their mad dogs, iron in course that barked through one wall to the other
Are still there feigned as flowers with red milks of your own, licking down forming oceans of agony for you a to sail…
O! Look, don’t look back as you are
Check not the seas so red from the past hands for they are
Continue to rejoice beyond the abuse of the pasts you have aced through
Watch and clap your hands as legs flow within rhythm so true
And hands roll up and break in grand styles as they do
Sing on and laugh out like we would do with our dirty teeth then
To cause another change for good with your pencil and your pen.

©Jodekss ’17

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