Imagination under Revision Pt2

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Things Left Unsaid

Nights are but sermons
To be streamed
In this requiem
To a dream, with stars
Drawn from wondrous dust
On shadows of the moon
As past, present
And future ferment
Like grapes
“In the twilight
Of perpetual noon”

& kismet called upon
By the revenant vox
Of wordshippers to come

Through The static
And the hum, out from
Under the umbra
Into sight, communing
With kindred souls
In search of the other
Side speaking truth
To light, because things
Once left unsaid
Are in a stage
Of dormancy, not dead.

©2018 MDSHall

Mixed (…but not mixed-up)

In spite
Of being light-bright
(& almost white, but
Not quite)
I choose
Neither to assimilate
Or to hate nor to separate
The human race
…but instead, realize
All of us comprise
The face of its fate…
& trust in the vernacular of my soulness.

©2017 MDSHall

America

America, what so proudly we hail

“Get back up,” God said,
You have a long way to go.
Be your own compass.”

Why
Couldn’t you see
Through the disguise
Of his diatribes
Full of false hope & lies?
There’s no way
To legitimize the hypocrisy
Of this utter idiocracy. But,
This too shall
Pass.

©2016 MDSHall

Judgment Day

In the place of my return
All the half-lights that glimmered
Even in the shadows of death
Shall shine through my soul made whole
By sweet serendipity
Witness to the caravan
When the saints come marchin’ in.

©2014 MDSHall

Strange Celestial Road

The jungle is a skyscraper

With its balconies bursting
With fate in a pleasant mood

Festooned
By flora and fauna
In the form of ebony
Moonbeams, the zodiac
& lunar sunrises sown in the skyline

Of a constellated canopy

As we speak in tones of time

Meandering
Like the Nile & the Niger, in
& out of streams
Of consciousness

Telling history
Along the way, from Eden
To where we’re inscribed today

On the wings of dreams
At the speed of night’s
Curious conjures about the cosmos

& its strange celestial road.

©2018, 21stcenturygrio

Reading Between the Lines

Daily
I pore
Over poetry
And the canon
Of post
Modern graffiti
I consider

Beyond category

Coloring the corridors
Of the college of museful
Knowledge, well and alive

In my stream of consciousness

Where
Despite life being
Satire

In the polygraph of time

We keep it
One-hundred (nonetheless)
Making us

Realize the truth

Forever more
Telling a sign
Than the news, because
Everyday
I turn them on, and have
To read between the lines
Anyway.

Ex Libris Life and the human condition Pt.2