profiling the divine phallus
on terraced shrouds of fault the dilemma
of arcane notation starts for that
succultent rumours, emotively torn asunder,
a green room becomes epiphanic,
the voice was gone with black sun;
buried onto neck in the drenched earth
the age old sins will be purified
today i meet you for a refusal to place
wreaths for soft death unceremoniously in
the lethal dose for assisted end of life;
a flame hangs like a pendant on the wall,
deflowered chaste tree, stretched unchilled
in deep wounds: it turns to my inner
eye, the voyage to anonymity of incomplete
cries of a broken dream, tody sleep not
This book represents a thirty-day period of my poetry journal. Each poem addresses
the dominant thoughts occupying my mind during the early morning hours of a given
day.
Still Living on my Feet is the follow up to Tichaona Chinyelu’s first book, In the Whirlwind, which was rooted in a sense of hard-hitting revolutionary black love. However, in this sophomore effort, Tichaona brings the revolutionary essence from deep
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