NYC untitled : Sea of Cowards & Angels
Currently on display in a gallery in NYC that I don’t remember the name of, Mar. 9th 2013.
Stacato tried to implement the pleasures of the morning
With dives of large silk clouds becoming part of the sea
When the power surge of blackness began to
Take a turn
And twisted men and women died before their time
And no clear measure given of the struggle in their silver speckled
No concise description of the times those days required
Sacrifice of highs and lows
Sacrifice of friends and foes
Only one cause there before us
Only one aim soared
Exploding grief, sorrow, death and life down in the center
Walking through the cipher
Walking through terrain
Legato tried to implement the measures worth
After the poets cry
After the drummers pride
After the silence the ghettos restored
Someone’s creation was more than supposed
Who was that woman dressed by her style
Wrapped up and thinking about a time
And for no one sleeping.
Who was that woman, an MGT
Who was that Jesus that’s not in the church
And where is Muhammad and not in the Mosque
And where is the Buddha, the Crescent the Ruh?
This earth has vomited its filth
Lay your own shit bare.
Find your own Crest Jewel.
Something’s rising with the dawn
Some ointment smeared across that eye
Some velvet wrapped around that bloody heart pumping
Pumping for its Self.
Pumping by its Self.
BY Aileen Muhammad 2013