G.Moore
 20800 3
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CATEGORY
just different
Cataclysmic waves in my palms
Control their postures
Like surfing the brailles of nervousness
That push mishandled brainstorms
Through the maps of my hands
Secular psalms grew from languages
Indoctrinated in the true pallet of my tastebuds
As if these poems are a taste of ancestral culture
Like soul foods
Like coded greetings
Like the seasoned flavors in the way we talk
The way we move
The way we exist
Vibrant eye easels hold refuge in my consciousness
Like stained glass windows...
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COMMENTS
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2b2b2 says: Excellent Work...thanks for sharing! |
OTHER POEMS WRITTEN BY G.Moore
UnfinishedCataclysmic waves in my palms Control their postures Like surfing the brailles of nervousness That push mishandled brainstorms Through the maps of my hands
Secular psalms grew from languages Indoctrinated in the true pallet of my tastebuds As if these poems are a taste of ancestral culture Like soul foods Like coded greetings Like the seasoned flavors in the way we talk The way we move The way we exist
Vibrant eye easels hold refuge in my consciousness Like stained glass windows...  |
