duck the cosplay. avoid the stretched-out mouths screaming about freedom from piggish lips and cracked trotters, clicking and clackingon colonial pavement.them filters don’t make much sense today. an archived revolution feels uncivilized, like a failure to launch. no one worksfor the people anymore,just for likes and clicksand voices hurling old rhetoric into gullible brains. theContinue reading “A Change Deferred: Avoid Cosplay”
Category Archives: Poems
Late_Autumn_Talks_in_Tongues
Balancing weight for the fifth time this week. Subtle. Heavy. A bluesy rhythm set to the tone of American hustle, muscle. Carlos Santanna strums a melody for a sun hanging on a cold day in late November. Nothing moves outside besides random crows and Black Friday sales. Crafting lines around moods has been the way,Continue reading “Late_Autumn_Talks_in_Tongues”
Used to the Weather
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”
Words and Beats at Sundown
Joy is a state of mind. Even a crooked smile has value. Changing tires in the wilderness has become a thing. Greg Lee unpacks the gear for another small crowd. We fall in with the people for an hour, connecting our stories, our long walks for meaning. A Haitian woman says we remind her ofContinue reading “Words and Beats at Sundown”
With Outstretched Wings
American politics weigh the equivalent of a night without Bobby Womack’s raspy voice filling this space. Eerie. Boring. Slightly neutral. Need some Soul to waist away the evening. Maybe some Blues from John Lee Hooker. I sample a new protein powder in my coffee. Unflavored. The Stevia crawls down my throat in slow leaps andContinue reading “With Outstretched Wings”
Tell An Entirely Different Story
Allow wings to stretch, like the doors of a Cinnamon-skinned Ford Explorer cruising through the late 90s. Dad used to crisscross state lines, while I used to catch snoozes in the back seat, listening to Jeffrey Osborne croon some Soul for the road. Hustle had me sick. Future had me lit. The present chaffed myContinue reading “Tell An Entirely Different Story”
Militant Kiss at Lunch Time
Step through empire, leave ruins on the bottom of black boots–lace themthings for struggle, for the gamble, for the hustle,for the swollen knuckles, for the donkeys, for the elephants, for the fat cats. Swell the chest and smile for the cameras. James Brown screams a soulful riff from a nearby corner. I raise a fist,Continue reading “Militant Kiss at Lunch Time”
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!
Unbothered: After Election Time
After voting time, my face is still shaped like a fist. Tightly screwed. Unbothered. Huey P. Newton behind a podium or Fred Hampton trying to build class solidarity. The truth lives in a gray area, an overcast reality. Strange and lit. Apply maximum muscle in traffic–shun mercy–because they only understand pressure. Pressure is sustained ideology,Continue reading “Unbothered: After Election Time”
The Official Website of Synnika A. Lofton 