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Billye Okera

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Member Since: Mar, 2007

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The Tuscan Trilogy
by Derek Flower

Moving between Tuscany, London, Rome and New York, The Tuscan Trilogy recounts the joys and tragedies of a woman whom fate both cuddles and flays, of her rise from childh..  
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Blackness So Black
by Billye Okera
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Blackness So Black takes a look into the deep dark dungeon of depression.

BLACKNESS SO BLACK 


BY bILLYE  oKERA


 


I've been in Blackness so black


 Black donít even know it be black -


Night so heavy on me


Daylight had to trip by quiet


Less it rip un-ripened woe from the vine


And leave in kind it own mourning.


Seems to me, if you could see just a little son-light


Just peer from under blankets of soulessness


And bless the coming of day


Then you could play the dozens with tragedy


And have your say with holocaust


Boss it back with your knack for word and song.


Donít get me wrong


Iíve spoken to the leader of the band


And he be playing oldies but goodies


But blues be blowiní


From the think and broken reed of a sad alto sax.


What I lack is joy


Just enough to keep black at bay


And the braying hounds from sounding  the judgment horn.


Gabriel be set to play blue-black notes


 In rote repetition and staccato screams


Careen from the tem be drum


 The tum-de-tum-tum of feet in Ghanaian frenzy.


 


My black be blacker than the closing of the eye


  At the death-hour


Towering above me


Hovering over me


Walking with me


Toying with my joy-stick


Messiní with my praise.


I have day upon day of no contact with God


And as way leads on to way


Iíve come to wear black rather nicely


While the icy gorge below


Bellowing over the falls is calling every hour...


  The great falls tripping over jagged rock


With the ridge of hell just under the foam


Of the wave.


 


Oh, Save me God.  


You who from the dark abyss


Kissed the deepest dark with Son and star


Who sparred with Leviathan and won.


Save me God.


You who declares what is and ainít


As the saints be danciní down demons


Down in the sistah circle


Shirt-tails whirling in dervish drunkenness


Black thighs absent the sign of the lying lover.


 


My black be blue-black


Berry-black-brazen


Brash-bigger-better,


Bitter-broken-bodacious,


Brooding-bold,


Burgeoning-bigot-boastful,


Beggard of a burly-black


And beeiní neither cold or luke-warm


It be hotter than sun-stroke


Red-hot


 Hotter than holocaust.


 


My black be blacker than my fist


 To your cheek


A hissy-fit black


Where Jack Koerner and Little Miss Muffet


Sat and sprayed venom all over suffering.


 


Now I ainít one to pray wash me whiter then snow


Cause snow be cold and hearts be frozen easy


And thereís the sleazy way soul tends to disappear


When even spectral light wonít penetrate


And there ainít no hue to guide you over.


 


My black be blacker than midnight


Black so black


That I have a knack for walking


Shoulders bent and a covering for sacred eye


When just above my head and in the skies


 A rainbow.


 



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Reviewed by Sistah J
Billye,

This is outstanding. From metaphor to metaphor you skillfully cause your reader peek through the window of deep dark depression then pull it up to bask in the rays of hope. You are definitely a sistah I could sit down with some good black coffee and have an inspiring conversation with.


My black be blacker than midnight

Black so black

That I have a knack for walking

Shoulders bent and a covering for sacred eye

When just above my head and in the skies

A rainbow.
Reviewed by Karen Palumbo
Such a sad, unforgiving write you have penned. But I do see a light at the end of the tunnel by the rainbow. Interesting.

Be safe,
Karen
Reviewed by H Cruz
well said indeed; If writting like that aint therapy nothin is!
Reviewed by Linda Hill
Billye,
I understand depression for I suffer from it also. You describe it brilliantly, Billye. I hope soon you can grasp that beautiful rainbow just above your head. God bless.

Many blessings,
~Linda
Reviewed by Art Sun
That is a dark view of depression....you picture this well within your poem, and surely know of it's grasp....

nice work.....Art Sun...
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