A Poem for Kareema

(INTRODUCTION)

The diviner of darkness comes to assuage a plight forlorn by incredible mysteries of sound and feel. From retrospects’ depth, we find that we are all a sailing vehicle of pain and triumph, sometimes minus triumph. To try.

Our hands make the work from wherever. How could we come to this place and neglect our own locality? Our bond with buildings and people. My! They have dimmed our brains with bright colors and oxygen.

I begin to hate my inert but find that somehow I am powerless against it and against sex.

I shall look back unknowing and turn to high blood pressure abstinence.

The Poem

Flowers facing the sky

The sun working with high and low currents

The clouds floating over homes

Restlessness settles on my hand,

Also in my eyes,

To pursue a Vagina I have never seen,

A vagina I have licked.

Not knowing how to behave when I arrive,

Not knowing what to wear before I lay naked after orgasms.

When you write, you fuck better,

When you perform your skill, you plunder a pussy in-high

Satis(sausage)faction.

A fraction of indecent sperm

Is the absence of the greatest being alive,

Told when he was five.

Birds flying high,

You know how we pee.

Craziness truly is like heaven;

Discipline is a machine gun.

Love is all there is to everything.

Your neck, your eyes

Are rolled back in ecstasy,

As I strangle you

And pump you full,

My child

Leaking from your anus.