Comprendre,
On n’a pas d’autre choix
Pour respire et
voir…..
As the
world
gives birth
to the brightness
of
light
likes an
up-side-down
chicken
pushing…
sunny-side
up…
The tombs gray
of stoic still
buildings
becomes
a
brighter
shade
of the same…
The brown of
Ebony
Mother/women
feels
the shrinking
shade
of
night,
behind closed
eyes
lids…
Oui,
Comprendre, on n’a
Pas d’autre choix
Pour respire et
voir….
As…
a mother—
as she, the braids of time
across
her
temples
and
forehead.
Trying to
forget
the
French.
For history
Is the post-card
Of sentimental
choice.
Her name
Of imposed
Nationality
From a
Furcated
City
Of
A
Profane
Spain.
This mother
communicated
through
her
eyes
in
the
French
after
the
“Treaty of Versailles.”
She
brought
fear
to
their
eyes
when
she
whispered
“REVO”
in
English.
Now, pale
travelers
can’t
get a
tan
under
communism.
This
Woman/mother
Kept a picture
Post-card
Of Julien Fedon
In the back of her
purse.
Oui,
Compredre, on n’a
Pas d’autre choix
Pour respire et
voir...
Now, she must travel,
Visit the undisciplined
of
immediate gravitation
of
youth…
Under the
gray sun
the dysfunction of
in-and-out of uniform.
Of mad Negroes in blue
Who only role is to cowardly
Accommodate
the keeping of victims
of iron
bracelets and
cheap rubber slippers.
Oui,
Comprendre, on n’a
Pas d’autre choix
Pour respire et
Voir….
As the childish uniform
cowards only to receive
A check
every two weeks
only
to rationalize
the privatize slave trade
of youth
ignorance
and who
public dress,
only
exposes
the public
dyfunction
and
lack of respect
for themselves
and the people
of their
comunities
and
class
oui,
comprendre, on n'a pas d'autre choix
pour respirer et
voir...
--30--
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