Author Archives: Synnika Alek-Chizoba Lofton

Ready_for_I-64_and_America’s_Smile

Switching lanes on Interstate 64. Backups don’t mean much. Latin jazz vibes. Surfing on steel drums, congas, keys, melodies. Police cruisers patrol the spots between Military and Brambleton–ravens setting speed traps, but the people smirk and keep pushing 80, single occupancy vehicles in the HOV lane. The coffee brews somewhere. Small hustlers get to itContinue reading “Ready_for_I-64_and_America’s_Smile”

Smoke_is_Normal

Hop and skip over social debris. Pursue the daylight, hovering toward the East. Oceanfront got them good vibes. Play Kind of Blue and let me lose track of the noise, the talking heads, and the mindless chatter, the characters without characters. Different Breed. Green tea with protein is the brew. Stevia pulls up to chillContinue reading “Smoke_is_Normal”

Taking_Notes_from_Behind_an_American_Wall

(Inspired by Darryl Moss’s “From Numbers to Power“) Outrun hope. Sidestep hate. Allow the people to see Resistance as the new Golden Rule. I rule the space between my ears. The American puzzle is nothing more than a maze-like trap. I test boundaries, inhale limits, lean forward into grease, metal, grind. Mr. Moss talks aboutContinue reading “Taking_Notes_from_Behind_an_American_Wall”

Blue_in_Green

Listening to Blue in Green and Miles Davis offers a glimpse of daylight. Coltrane blows lightning. She says, “What are you listening to?” I say, “Prelude to a Revolution.” Subtle like God peeking through off-white blinds, watching the aftermath of Creation. I flip American channels: ICE Shoots a Woman Fleeing the Scene. Venezuela Agrees toContinue reading “Blue_in_Green”

Mr._Monroe’s_Ski_Mask

Mr. Monroe got a ski mask. Nothing but a smokescreen for plunder, for pillage, for rape, for robbery, for exploitation, for OIL, for global theft in the WEST. Indigenous lands don’t stand a chance (don’t stand a chance). US imperialism is the boogeyman, the boogeyman, the boogeyman, is the language of beasts in a threeContinue reading “Mr._Monroe’s_Ski_Mask”

I_Too_Sing_of_Decay

I, too, sing of decay and rot, swinging for the noses of State Repression and Control. Imperialism hides his hand; he tucks a ski mask in his back pocket. He talks about promises of wealth and status. Elephants and donkeys surf airwaves, passing blame. Normal stuff. I scowl at the puppet master, walking along cobblestoneContinue reading “I_Too_Sing_of_Decay”

Sum_of_Man

Ease into morning. Stealth-like. A Robert Glasper melody establishing a new beginning. The day yawns, stretches, and turns the key. Ignite the motivation to live freely. This day-to-day thing takes a certain mastery, a skill, a relentless step along shifting concrete to navigate empire. The cracks are deadly. Politicians flash sinister smiles. I carefully examineContinue reading “Sum_of_Man”