Let the bees make love to their honey in peace, Do not poison them, do not chase them off, or destroy them. We disturbed them first. We trampled their flowers, and burned their nests. A sting is little a price to pay for a demolished home and massive unemployment.
Being biracial
I tried to get the stain of her lipstick out my mind,I failed.I stayed like a cup she had drank out of,I rubbed the rim of me, with a tissue, still the mark rests,deep-crimson.
When first I came across her path,I saw at once the soul o' that gold-haired lassIt was a soul of snow that I saw,And looking too long I grew coldAnd looking too long I grew oldWhen she came to rub against me thoughI could not hold against the falling of the snowMy grounds with all … Continue reading A Soul of Snow
Wine, wine, wine, everywhereBut not a single drop in sightOf the fluid that flows in the veins of the godsAll of the water has been turned into wineWine, wine, wine, everywhereTo be drunk when the end comesTo be too numb to feel the guilt of our mindless pursuitWine, wine, wine, until we are no more … Continue reading Human Focus
What poor beings are those who know themselves beautiful,For others, they must choose between lies and honesty,To protect the ego of the ugly, or of the self-lashersAnd still, what thanks do they get?Fake smiles, hidden jealousy, peeking from nostrils, waiting to sneeze on them, at them.
Who knows how to feel anymore?Days flit by, we miss them go bye,Too busy, we worship lights and CV And awake. Awake? What do we do awake? Then, well, we lose sleep. But why? why? why?Is it the light of the sky?Nay.Is it the light in a lover's eye?Nay.Is it the light of a candle?Nay.The … Continue reading sea of blind knowledge
Not all the leaves have fallen yet.My mind still recalls that spring with her,Like a slice of moon among autumn clouds.When summer comes, will I forget, as one does the snow that melts? Never. For I hold fast to precious thought, and like spring she will never rot. Only return again.
Short poem on poetry
In the place in my body where the past perches highest,There is only pain,But neverminding that, I will lift my head.Despite a childhood spent bowing under blows.My head will rise to stare Mount Olympus in the face. Despite a childhood spent touched by sick grownup hands.My own hands will grip my child one day with … Continue reading I Will
Issa A. Dioume 