Monday, November 28, 2011

A Fisherman




I perch in 
never ending constantine
for brummagem
attention seeker 
at the edge of 
lupine bank 
taking shape of 
talamak in stance 
with bear's claw 
waiting for salmon






©2011 Anthony Desmond Scott. All Rights Reserved.

click here to follow Glass Staircase

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Slaughter



bloodied knees from travels on all fours
I've come to realize fucked up flesh 
is a blessing in disguise 
like a red wattle pig hung from the highest cross 
chicken heads praise the sacrifice 
while admiring a last glimpse at their own bodies 
their final breath is cemented with breasts 
as full as quarter moons 
overfed stomachs 
spines misshapen 
dicks too small to properly satisfy 
these walls that make 
the rolls of fat on the back of a woman's neck 
engorged like foie gras ready to be eaten 
by the next soul who speaks gibberish like the born deaf 
who begs to speak our language but instead left to self
no man's land is thy island
slowly being taken like a doula's hand in water
soothing a new mother 
giving birth to a devil child 



for OLN @dVersePoets

©2011 Anthony Desmond Scott. All Rights Reserved.

click here to follow Glass Staircase

Monday, November 14, 2011

Transcend





A vague shadow 
Creating history 
From what left 
Yesterday in the present 
Now, past and into 
Future legacy 
A folding precipice of time
Born in body 
With harlequin hands
Heart on outside 
Eyelids backward 
Buckshots for teeth
Still he,
In meditation,
In thought with 
Thy genius
Freeing ingenuity 
Forgiving the intangible 
Manifested from 
The birth of slave 
To death of lawyer
With well seasoned tongue
coated in bullshit 
Like stepping in bull's shit 
Unbeknownst to me 

The stench                of mystery

      Takes me
           Uses me 
                  Fills me

They say it takes 
One to know 0ne
Well it takes one 
With common sense 
To know none 

Just as the antithesis of wealth
May be intelligence
That doesn't mean we aren't rich 
A pledge to Heaven's Hollywood
The road is paved with stars 
As shallow as a scuttle
Harvesting breadcrumbs
Cash crops for the pocket...




©2011 Anthony Desmond Scott. All Rights Reserved.


for OLN at DversePoets

click here to follow Glass Staircase

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Apocalypse



There's a lot to be said but all of you pay no mind 
And let that speak be of the dead 
Shut lips partnered with closed-minds 
Make thy worst enemy, yet thy sweetest f(r)iend 
Castle walls collapse as my people stray from what once was 
"The Land of the Free" 
Now encapsulated in an ignorant tortoise shell 
As the dominant male rises from that 
Which burns like hell, the fires, 
The storms that result in hail, upon us 

Lord forgive us for our sins 
For we are dumb fucks 
Motherfuckers constantly rape the sap from 
Nature's Mother, fuck her, slowly 
And let her heal yet scorch her with catheters 
Of flowing gasoline 
The hospital bills rise, upon us

Like strangers in the night 
The apocalypse will rise 
Like strangers in the night 
The apocalypse will rise 
As a cold black sun in June
The apocalypse will rise 

Let us join together as the African Giant Millipede 
Draped in all white so my niggas will survive 
Like blood diamonds in the river hoping 
To end up on a high class(less) ring finger 
The apocalypse will rise like tides of fresh milk 
From the breast of thee creator trade it for honey 
And glaze a thick coating for bad days 
Or as my people say "hard times" 
The times not mentioned in Times Magazine 
But just as the expiration date on 
The Black House 
That milk will evaporate for money 

The steam will rise, upon us


For Open Link Night @D'verse Poets


©2011 Anthony Desmond Scott. All Rights Reserved.

click here to follow Glass Staircase