Author Archives: Synnika Chizoba Lofton

AUDIO LEAK SUNDAYS: American Funk

Listen to the audio or read below! Morning begins.Sun leans. 10:27am. Protein pancakes and boiled eggs provide the nutrition.Random birds talk, whistle, bounce from branch to branch in neighbor-hood trees, spray painting natural graffiti on greenery. Corner boys evade motion, the motion of street creatures, looking to slap silver rings on wrists, sending them young boys up the pipeline.Continue reading “AUDIO LEAK SUNDAYS: American Funk”

AUDIO LEAK SUNDAYS: Island of the Mind or Listening to Miles Davis

Listen to the audio or read below! Solitude is King. Isolation is a type of God. Some may not understand ambitions, goals, and appetites. Nothing satiates the Hunger, like the grit of living for the edge of oblivion’s high. High pitched mutes resemble the voice of man. Don’t speak too loudly. Don’t walk too tallContinue reading “AUDIO LEAK SUNDAYS: Island of the Mind or Listening to Miles Davis”

A Healthy Distrust

A healthy distrust for Wings. Left wing. Right wing. Same old dusty things with colonial voices, circling their decaying bodies. This is most of the time, like brewing coffee on Monday mornings– Kenyan blend– placing specific tools in a black duffle bag to dismantle Massa’s house. We all know that you can’t use the sameContinue reading “A Healthy Distrust”

Sundays in the Machine

Hit the pavement with aggression. This race toward heaven got bluesy stories and risky gambles. Break open the machine on a Sunday morning. Allow intentions to sidestep traditions and polluted creeds. D.C. politics still rage. A Chicago mayor ain’t got time for toddlers that soil Oval offices, cosplaying for the cameras, deflecting short attention spans.Continue reading “Sundays in the Machine”

Today’s Thoughts on Empire

No open palms in this crooked land. Only clenched fists and iron-like ideas  can survive in this social wilderness. I dig into this militant bag. Fela Kuti  runs down anticolonial chants to awaken morning.A fresh brew wafts into  spacious rooms–Kenyan blend. Huey P’s voice crawls into earbuds, like  a follower of a congregation. D.C. experiences empowered mediocrity. The Oval  Office got plans to take overContinue reading “Today’s Thoughts on Empire”

Live with the Risks

Sparrows chirp; traffic gentlyroars; a cul-de-sac sleeps, breathes, slowly prepares for the day. Geese block the street, forcing a black pickup truck to stop for superior creatures with jazz-like steps, natural connections to the land, man-made water sources. They grind, hustle. Loud machines do not bother. Towering trees stand, like neighborhood pillars. I-64 chants aContinue reading “Live with the Risks”

Jazz Hangs on a Saturday

Avoiding noise,like vibes consumeskin. Constantly. Fixing flats onpolluted earth,patching up holes onliberated wings.Snatch up purpose andmemorize thecracks in culture. Jazz hangson flesh. JohnColtrane. Dexter  Gordon. Mr. TheloniousMonk taps keys, altering moods. Rick laughs at an episode of Malcolm and Eddie, while Ryan unfolds a box of Kane’s fried chicken, hoping to uproot mystique, justify the snake-like backups onContinue reading “Jazz Hangs on a Saturday”

More Human Each Day

Cocoa scented skin wafts for moments–an epic simile–like my man Reggie, twirling a piece of raw chocolate from a Haitian cocoa tree. The years fly by. We grind. Buildto act, to protect,to love, to resist, to live, to leap overburdens, like we have surfed these metallic waves before. Liberated. Cageless. Roses forcing their ways throughContinue reading “More Human Each Day”

Poem Written After Watching an Episode of Goliath

California license plate on a yellow bug. “Baby, I got your money,” she says, misremembering the codename. “The name is Fernando Vasquez,” he says. A lawyer with a bloody nose and a poor disposition slides out of the trunk of a red 2018 Jeep Compass. Nothing to see here. Dead metaphors and dysfunction. More bullshitContinue reading “Poem Written After Watching an Episode of Goliath”