Jawanza Phoenix, USA

ANGEL OF WAR

Last night, I heard the cries of a hundred babies

as they begged for their mothers whose

breasts had been chopped off

and delivered to the nursery

the night before, I smelled

the occupiers of my land

as they pissed and defecated

on my front porch

steps and lawn

today, I witnessed full grown men

dripping in sweat and weeping

as they ran for cover

from metallic rain

everyday, I see green-helicoptered cannons

flying overhead

even though I never asked for protection

and never said I was scared

tonight, I am cooking a stew

of bullets and uranium

I plan to over cook it

to boil it down to nothing

what will your followers

fight with

then?

IT IS TIME

I imagine myself lost

in a series of nightmares

with no one to wake me up

and carry me to a place

where I can work without

monsters staring over my back

threatening to report me

to thought police

it is time to knock on doors

wake up naive lovers blinded by flesh

and tell them that the circle

has been broken

and must be rebuilt

the materials needed do not include reality TV

fast food fries or even sunglasses

only a willingness to listen to victims

of abuse and neglect

and bear witness for them

other useful materials might include

a burning branch from a campfire

to help navigate whatever traces of sanity

that enemies of self-determination

have not stamped out of me

finally, a hole-puncher

not to punch random holes in the sky

but to round off the holes already made

by bulldozers and bazookas

so I can fill them

with laughter

and song

BEAUTY IN NONSENSE

i don’t make sense

there is beauty in nonsense

i have discussions with dogwood trees sunflowers and horses

i daydream about children sailing the seas

on the backs of silvery gray dolphins, sharing

ghost stories passed down while eating

roasted marshmallows

i find beauty in those who others regard as ugly stupid or weird

i enjoy music sung in foreign tongues -

- Ethiopian, Portuguese, Congolese and French-Creole

i bless black white and polka-dot people

even when they don’t see me and

not just after they’ve sneezed

women have cheated and lied on me,

yet i still believe that soft bright flowers grow inside

of each one i meet

until they betray me

i see nothing wrong with believing that

this could be my second or third but not my last life

i find it perfectly plausible that my next life could be as

a poodle, a pelican or a pear tree

i don’t make sense

there is beauty in nonsense

==

Bio:

"I was born and raised in the Washington , D.C. , metropolitan area.  I currently reside in Jersey City , New Jersey .  I spend hours writing poetry because I believe in its power to restore beauty to the world and to transform lives.  I reject the philosophy of “art for art’s sake” because I believe that poetry is for the people and it is always a time of war.  I try to remember that art is a gift, rules are for fools, and weird is good."

email Jawanza at: jawanzap at aol dot com

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