Sunday, April 13, 2014

The Bull Walking on Blood and Soil

A mass of gray in death causing turmoil
Like the spiral of a ram's horn
Conspiracies that surround the goat head
Are the reason no one reads good news
Unless there's speculations
Of pyramid symbolism

Theories become irrefutable evidence
Colorblind like a bull to every matador
Waving a red cape
Charging at a double edge sword
Like a nigga to a fire hose

You can't walk in my shoes
I have hooves
Among the million man march
Of pale soles

The ground we both walk on
Is the same but for some
It feels like broken glass and
Dirty needles bent from
Being passed around 
Like a house built on blut und boden  

©2014 Anthony Desmond Scott. All Rights Reserved.

*Blut und boden - German for blood and soil, is Nazi ideology;
synonymous with racism.*  

This poem is written for Poetics - The Photography of Phyllis Galembo,  my prompt 
at d'Verse Poets Pub.

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Tuesday, April 1, 2014


From the moment we met
I knew your bones were made of paper
Worn so thin you could swallow me whole
But I am not afraid
My illicium still shines brightly

I am foolish enough to remove my teeth
Solely based on the beauty of your mouth
As I showcase the persistence of an anglerfish
Unsure if your past has caused
A rare sexual dimorphism: a crescent-shaped mouth
Of fang-like teeth between your legs
Sharpened like a razor to a strop

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Thursday, March 20, 2014


My Moonshine-drinker

Unbound as gunnr's horse
Hunting killdeer-wing

Fragile as wolf's-joint
With white-flag
On Hamburger Hill

My Moonshine-drinker

*For MTB at d'Verse Poets Pub - Kennings, hosted by Bj√∂rn*

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