Confessions of a Tropical Bird
by Jacques s Fleury
Sunday, June 03, 2007
Rated "G" by the Author.
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An expression of frustration from the point of view of a Haitian-American male adjusting to life in America.
A Collage Of History
i remember you.
you used to be my memory.
but by tomorrow, you will be my history.
transient peculiar patterns
a series of self inflicted “ACCIDENTS”,
inconclusive reports of possible homicides,
mounting human expenditures don’t have an explanation for attending the
inauguration of oppression. this notion have taught me that the most explosive of
the bunch could be the sacred not the sinful, for the sacred shrouds disharmonious
resentments and stealthy malevolence. strawberry fields on slave plantations
growing along white walls watching slaves die to fertilize barren grounds.
radicals importuning: “how did the president’s speech go over, with an audience stock full of political imbeciles?” all clapping while the president sprinkled salt on his lies.
talking like a poem saying nothing saying everything. holding haughty fundraisers
to generate generosity, hoping to CATCH the giving spirit, for the giver receives
and the receiver gives. but for them, the latter ain’t true . the world is navigating
pandemonium! i wanna hang with harmony, humility is hungry, it’s seductive eyes
staring in to the glares of grotesque denigrating government gratuities,
begging the rich for a bowl of costly concentrated piss that would
forever quench their thirsts. hey hush! listen. rush hour is accelerating,
tanks stock full of apathy, i need a car to find me or i risk getting lost in the debris.
the sky is sinking! the clouds are shouting! since the law is dying, it’s lies
crucifying the truth. I AM A VESSEL. inside my veins you will find frosted
liquid saints, so let my light flicker but don’t let it grow into a full blown FIRE!!!
i am only one bright stripe in the rainbow, beauty just changed the subject,
my work is heavy but my burden is light, fall back onto the ground or
fall forward onto your God, my brokenness was porous like a gift,
i once heard that “compliments are like perfume, sniff it but don’t drink it.”
prayer opens the door for your God to enter.
either or is an extreme.
so find your COLOR and let it brim.
NOW i WAKE UP to find that my history has been nothing but an
Copyright ã 2007 Jacques Fleury All Rights Reserved