Adapting to the changes. To changes, I adapt. Eerily. Patiently. An early November morning winks her eye. Still gambling with old dice, trying to outlive the poison of snakebites or out hustle the pigs at a scrambler’s pace. Colonial thinking does not live in these veins. Strange DNA. I hear an unkempt drummer. Hands slapContinue reading “Used to the Weather”
Category Archives: community
New Poems in The Skinny Poetry Journal!
Peace and greetings! I hope this message finds you well and finding some semblance of peace in the current whirlwinds of the American experience. The Skinny Poetry Journal has published two of my poems, James Baldwin’s Smile and Medium Sized Coffee with a Side Order of Resistance. Click on the image and check them out!
Get a copy of Blues in June Today!
For the next 7 days, readers can purchase copies of Blues in June, which is a small collection of poems from the forthcoming Blues Man on a Tightrope Vol. 1! Click on the image and purchase your copy today! To read the latest poems, subscribe to Mailbox Weekly!
Gas Lighters Tap Dance in the Comments Section
Spare me the fan fiction. Spare me the counterfeit morality. Spare me the bankrupted hymns of polluted country. Allow me to dig into my black crate for liberation music,for the perfect anti-system record to make sense of America’s guttural blues. Dead Prez. Public Enemy. Fela Kuti. Kendrick Lamar. This is S-Dot scripture, a black fistContinue reading “Gas Lighters Tap Dance in the Comments Section”
AUDIO LEAK SUNDAYS: STRANGE DNA
TAKE A LISTEN TO STRANGE DNA AND THEN SUBSCRIBE TO MAILBOX WEEKLY!
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”
Mailbox Monthly Vol. 2 is Still Available!
Tradition for What?
Too fast to wear a crown.Uneasy. Heavy is the head. STILL. Raised on a different frequency,moving skillfully with sharks, like Miles Davis swimming in sound. SOUND is a temple. The gamble crawls on skin, and I change lanes. Stuck in this blues, living with designed purpose. God’swill on flesh. Them levels be dangerous. Bones tellContinue reading “Tradition for What?”
Said the Monk to His Earbuds
Beats by Dre hurl gritty street anthems. Nipsey Hussle. Jim Jones. Jeezy. K-Dot. Motivation is a strange addiction. Speed and altitude are objectives, pushing farther into concrete oblivion, keeping the circuit board CLEAN, like the only way to live is by BOLD declarations and aggressionand pain and suffering and more PAIN. Climb them hillstill lungsContinue reading “Said the Monk to His Earbuds”
The Official Website of Synnika A. Lofton 