Farook Abdul-karim Sesay
By Farook Abdul-karim Sesay, Writer. Poet. Legal advisor. Political commentator
This is a poem. But not a poem! A scribe once wrote/ this is a dirge. Yet not a dirge. As the words danced on paper. A lump formed in her throat/
Swathes of emotions swirl like congealed cappuccino milk/ forming nuggets of defiance. Despair. Dreams. On paper. That was once smooth as dark silk/
Now rugged and scratchy as sand paper with the mirthless motion of emotions/ while the images float as fluttering butterflies. Still they’re poems that are not poems. Dirges that are not dirges. Only versions of invisible visions /
What am I? Who am I? A flamingo? Maybe an albino dingo. A madingo or a gringo?/ for the images iin her head erupting with elusive words cannot understand this strange lingo/
Poem. Dirge. Whisper. Shout. Scream. Silence. They cuddle each other. Denying their very existence/ confused. In their contortionist cocoons. As dollops of hope like dope embrace the creeping luminescence/
Bathing the poem that is not a poem. Serenading the dirge that is not a dirge/
Poems. Dirges. Unborn. Still born? Placenta choked? Words that are seen as paper kites. Unhinged in the skies/ Poem. Dirges. Cobbled thoughts. A chimera? midwives of beautiful ugly thoughts. Forced Foreplay or rape? These invincible truth or Lies/
*Farook Abdul-karim Sesay: writer. Poet. Legal advisor. Political commentator*
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