A Poem for Speculative Hipsters
He had got, finally,
to the forest
of motives. There were no
owls, or hunters. No Connie Chatterleys
resting beautifully
on their backs, having casually
brought socialism
to England.
Only ideas,
and their opposites
Like,
he was really
nowhere.
* * *
Visit the poet’s official site at http://www.amiribaraka.com
chris said:
Like this. took a few readings thru for me… but a very perceptive poem.. Thanks.
Jesus Crisis said:
You’re welcome! Thank you.