For the culture

Dear Motown lover, I absquatulated to Narnia

to see the gold ensemble of  war ships north of  the  loch ness


To feel the warm orange  sun pacify  my bosom

and finesse the taste of smooth jazz and  Scottish scotch


‘Tho I have been exiled into solitude,

I  couldn’t hide from your bearded face


I  remember that beat, the extended sense of rhythm

I needed it like I needed to hallucinate


like I was breathing  forcefully without it

It was an aesthetic I needed to share


I found a place beyond grassy dunes, overlaying damp rusty urban roofs

through a collection of beaded curtains,  is the glistening of vintage hues


This place sets my heart ablaze, my oh so cold and pale heart

The only sane voices I hear this days speak through the bass


I will still be in this place 59 moons later

threading the thin clouds of imagination and unconventional literature


Some days I’m numb, some days I’m woke

both days I can’t stand the blood of vengeance out there


So I replay this vibe in my head, over and over and over

and over on those midsummer nights


And I write these poems for you everyday,  for the culture

Just in case you come searching for me someday.


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