I see fire,
A swollen belly filled with flame,
a burning tree inside,
a volcano lined with red,
it will spew to fill the chasm,
where a chunk of crown awaits it,
the fire comes tonight.
We shall bathe in its light,
our charred hearts shall rejoice,
with the blue kiss.



Quieten your fire now,

Turn it into a spring,

Let it spring forth,

like the sea’s wroth,

Let it leap,

like a man to his death,

fire turned wave,

deliciously desperate,

desperately insane.

Incendiary shards of pain,

woven into a delicate mirror,

to cut and slice,

with thine reflection.



His face

An elusive clarity,

Sired in the cloak of darkness,

Crowned in the misty spires of shadows,

Eerie and leering, he looks on.

But I have seen the truth of him,

The truth of his lies.

I have glanced his face,

Abounded with ugliness,

He bears the ugliness of a thousand men,

Uglier still with every gesture.

Dreary eyes,

Deadened and reddened,

Drooping from his billowy parchment skin,

He has no bones,

I see his saggy sallow cheeks,

A putrid slit for a mouth,

Eternally spinning the lore of woe,

Holes for ears and a nose,

I wonder if he breathes at all.

Jagged teeth,

Rusted and wrought.

I have seen his face,

Perched atop men’s breasts and women’s skulls,

Like the vulture he is.

I know the truth of this creature,

Though his might may never cease,

I have glanced his face from the rear,

The face of fear.

the Nina Simone experience

For a time i have not had a ‘the chord that struck’ post and in the recent days i have simply become inebriated by Nina Simone’s body of work, her accomplishments, her choices, her activism but most of all her authentic musical soul.

However she managed to imbue her music with such truth, revelation and pain as to move a crowd even decades later to a complete and utter breakdown is the gift that keeps giving. As an African woman the lessons and dedications in her music ring painfully with every chord more so because not only because it is true but because it is continuous, every so often the repression of black individuals around the world like a snake sheds its skin and takes on a life anew.

In the 19th century it was slavery, in the 20th it was colonialism and now the behemoth we face has donned a new face of neo-colonialism and in the west systematic incarceration and indiscriminate extra-judicial killing of blacks. The pill is hard to swallow, allow Nina to transport you to the water, because as always swallow it we will and rise again and again as we always do.

Do enjoy!