Weak Bonds
Weak Bonds
by Smokey Farris
The weak bonds that
once broke buttons
bounce suddenly off
cold remedies and
Bahrain memories
from the burning palms
to the bloody beach
towels and the orange
blossoms that used to
cling to your hair.
Now the bump and
bounce of the hot
poop night clubs dance
to the circadian drizzle of
human feedback made by
women drummers.
Offset the past and replace
all the names of the dead
with names of the living
and retell the passages of
nightclubs into the cool
breeze of cable internet.
Withered emotions dry out
the part of the day that used
to suntan and purify itself with
beer, cotton candy and latex.
From slavery to sweet nothings.
The lament of human bondage.
Firefight amongst the soft tickle of
silent alarm bells.
Said goodbye forever to panties
and discarded them while dreaded
Rasta hymns carry themselves
upon the sound of hard hammers.
Winter was not wasted with
the cute bunny like movements
of a trio of passengers.
It was reinvented on the mouth
of the Mississippi river.
Next to the shoreline,
away from the mud.
Holy smoke in the fog of war with purple haze spraying rainbow mists from a din of dust!
This is the kind of poetry I’d like to be able to write if I was not me and write the way I do. (if that makes any sense). I appreciate how the poet elucidates ‘nature of the urban heart’ and avoids hoity toity quintessential universal poetics which can stink generic in favor of subjective expression. Phenomenal!