"CIVILIZATION IS"
Crazy are the things that run through my mind, like a cat with a firecracker up his ass
running on someone else’s time.
My thoughts listen to each other, what if my sister was my brother and how do we
avoid each other, spinning at an angle we become entangled in past events and my
equality of hate is self evident to those who cross pass my light and bring more
shadows to my night. Sensitivity has driven me to the edge of, the edge of …..
Crazy are the thoughts that run through my mind, a crime is only a crime if you get
caught; perverse gestures are constantly being taught. Catching actions of attraction
on videotape, who saved the girl from being raped. Can you please speak to me, will
violence set me free, free from ourselves, take the root off the shelves.
Replant my soul in solitude and at this time I must conclude that shivery is dead, hung,
sodomized and shot in the head, making notches on my headstone, 1st we’re born
then we die, alone. The bells are ringing and they won’t shut-up will someone please
pour Brandy in my cup, or should I cup the rain that falls upon my head. Someone
once said “what’s to be gained if you’re dead”, so I live in pain sprinkled with agony,
sharing the love that is left inside of me, toe tags and paper bags determine our
destiny, I see all that is hidden, but who sees me.
Written by,
Nyati-Melissa D. Cleveland
Crazy are the things that run through my mind, like a cat with a firecracker up his ass
running on someone else’s time.
My thoughts listen to each other, what if my sister was my brother and how do we
avoid each other, spinning at an angle we become entangled in past events and my
equality of hate is self evident to those who cross pass my light and bring more
shadows to my night. Sensitivity has driven me to the edge of, the edge of …..
Crazy are the thoughts that run through my mind, a crime is only a crime if you get
caught; perverse gestures are constantly being taught. Catching actions of attraction
on videotape, who saved the girl from being raped. Can you please speak to me, will
violence set me free, free from ourselves, take the root off the shelves.
Replant my soul in solitude and at this time I must conclude that shivery is dead, hung,
sodomized and shot in the head, making notches on my headstone, 1st we’re born
then we die, alone. The bells are ringing and they won’t shut-up will someone please
pour Brandy in my cup, or should I cup the rain that falls upon my head. Someone
once said “what’s to be gained if you’re dead”, so I live in pain sprinkled with agony,
sharing the love that is left inside of me, toe tags and paper bags determine our
destiny, I see all that is hidden, but who sees me.
Written by,
Nyati-Melissa D. Cleveland
Copyright © 2006 Sylvia M P inc. All rights reserved.
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Nyati Poetry From Within
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