This is a piece from a project, a free ebook I wrote with a few talented individuals. The book is here to download for free. http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/437003
Black Suns of the Slave Dynasty isn’t a book of typical poetry and short stories that you read for a moment and place on your coffee table along with the rest of your readings. No, this book carries the sizzling intellectual minds of writers who put words into mysteries that seduces you to solve the puzzle in the rhymes of love, passion, with drops of politics and darkness. The writers of this book are not ordinary, but they are the freaks of poetry and lovers of tangled words in sheets of emotion. You will be introduced to Majdaleen Musleh, Amani Masoud, Darius McCullum, Mujahid Al-Muntharee, and Sadek Alzubaidi. Each one of them bring an ingredient to this book that keeps the taste in your mind fresh. This book is for you to find yourself between the lines and question your life with every page you flip.
“I cannot teach you, only help you explore yourself, nothing more.”
When I’m frail what I fail to understand and digress
That I need to love more and worry less
I’ve become worrisome
It’s become a hum disguised as a hymn in my mind
My eardrums drum and the sound drives me madly blind
And all I see is a sea of her
She’s everything that I ever dreamed of
Every scene from every movie screen I ever fiend for
She said, “I can hear your smile through the phone”
I said I can feel your breath with every silent tone
Every moan and groan; her sounds I’ll never out grow
Just shows how much we love and hate each other
How we would spare our lives for one another
I fear every time she cries a spear in my ear
She thinks I lie and I think she’s right
But I think she’s wrong cause I try
I give her my heart, soul and spine
And I pray that every rhyme sends a chill through hers
Like her voice does to mine
And I violently pray to the divine that she stays in my life
I can see the signs and they’re all reflecting every line in my mind
Sometimes I upset her I become a dictator, a Caesar
But she sees that all I want is to dictate and cease her
I chant your song every lonely evening
So that the chains come off in morning
They restrain me, from you; a pain I can’t fathom
When I miss you, I rewrite your anthem
I watch your favorite movies
I read your favorite books
I recite your favorite prayer
In my field, you’re the only player
Farewell it goes without a saying
I hope you don’t go without it, saying
For the memories I set to you in rhymes
For every haiku I wrote for you
And every high note I attempted to hit for you
Don’t leave without a farewell
Don’t you dare hit and run
This is for the Syrian kids that watched the sunset but never saw it shine
For the martyr mothers in Palestine that stabbed their guts so their kids won’t witness a daily columbine.
Waiting, fighting for freedom; praying, hoping for a warrior to rise from beneath the lost arabian deviants.
This is for every Chicago kid, victim of the stop sign
murdered in the same ghetto that raised him,
betrayed by the hot summer graze winds.
This is for every scar from a bully’s words
For every drop of blood from the veins dispersed in the sink in which they surge.
This is for your deceiving image in the mirror
For the revered world of severed words.
This is for the faceless niggas
For the grace of racist images
That are portrayed beautifully through televisions.
This is for the modern day slaves who live, love, cry in pain in their caves
Caves behind monitors of rage
Rage that ranges from ages young, to an insane sage
Free the slaves.