Most times i flare, <br />beating the damn air. <br />Cursing the heart of adults, rolling deep in rage, black rage.i fly hills aloft beyond my reach. <br />I spit at me severally, the bloody stuttering that bites each word. <br /> <br />Other times i soar in the realm of blazing ecstacy.i jump the same hills, but this time on a soiled one.untie a devil's wail to the winds, loose the tempers to swim in oceans of emotion. <br /> <br />The growth i see in meagre, i savour the waving inside, bend my spirit and brood the darkness of it. <br /> <br />It dwells, sure it does dwell in the crevice far the abyss of my d.n.a, <br />bubbling in seasoned smearing of itself and its instigator. <br /> <br />But it is fascinating to my being, to my devices, i tool them to the fingers, to the heart and to the air. <br /> <br />I die a white man's death in it, i unravel the tied dark with it.<br /><br />Goodnews mememugh Karibo<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/emotion-49/
