kikei [dot] net >> [r]evolution[s] >> poetry >> incarnate


incarnate; or, the many faces of steven paul

Sits down on the steps with a Coke,
A joke of a man, sixty years strong.
Lips aquiver with stories of a life not lived,
Written and recalled in false memories.

While he sips, another stands away,
Makes his life flash over his fingertips.
In the back of his mind, a white lady dances,
Beckoning with her deadly smile.

Dreadlocked and the picture of misery,
The third seats himself in the sun.
He bleeds his fingers on a guitar,
Lets himself burn with the fury of years.

By turn, they are silent, by turn too loud.
A dreamer awakens to echoes of his life.
A heartbeat pulses, fades into being,
Burns into the ash of another scream.



© Marziya Mohammedali, 2001-2013