"Dream"
My eyes close as I drift off into the night
My system full of non-effective nodose
My body asleep, mind awake from all the silent but noisy peeps
My mind races to different places, spaces
I wonder why do I not feel complacent
I don't belong here
I should be out among the stars
Beyond the atmosphere and stratosphere, my mind clear
Free to do what I want to do like most don't do
From birth I've felt like I was someone
But somewhere along the line my access pass was declined
Was it the fact that I was from the hood
Nah, that idea's no good
Was it that my own friends told me I was no good
Nah my mind wont except that
Was it that my dad left on the edge of me becoming a man
just learning to stand
FORGET ALL THAT, my life line, Jesus said I'm free
I can be a rich man
An actor, producer, writer, entrepreneur, not some hood
God says I love you,
Access pass granted
I said my God all the wrong I've done what's the hook
He said just read my book, no skeems
Go ahead young brother, live ya DREAM
©2011 Thomas Hawkins.
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A Flower Song
Apparently the Aztecs, Toltecs, Chichimecs and other Mexica were crazy about poetry. Despite the book-burning, slaughter, and epidemics that characterized the early stages of the Spanish conquest of the empires of Mexico, some hundreds of poems from the height of their tradition come down to us in Classical Nahuatl, preserved by Nahua and Spanish scholars of the 16th century. One of the most famous poets, Nezahualcoyotl, was a sage-king who opposed the cult of human sacrifice associated with Tezcatlipoca, God of the Smoking Mirror, and favored Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent. Flowers and feathers were the favorite offering of the Plumed Serpent. Moreover, flowers and feathers are a metaphor for poetry. Individual words, scattered petals, the down of tropical birds. The temples of blood sacrifice could be transformed into temples of flower and song. A sublimated offering to the Heart of Earth and the Heart of Sky encapsulated in the Classical Nahuatl kenning for poetry: in xōchitl in cuīcatl, meaning, "the flower and the song." The following poem is part of a longer work, and is in a state of flux, so take the waters as they flow:
By Rob Angeli3 days ago in Poets
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