Spice
I see why they came back for the spices
to flavour the meet and the mingle
the names signed flatline
bland
Van Gogh for the heightened senses?
a fully decorated Massai
would spice the rigor mortis from his eyes
Experience
The concrete was once mortar
the mother was once daughter
a helluva lot softer
We know
Is it not true that we know love
forever and ever
We praise the Gods with our understanding
with our stupidity
we sanctify Holy
for to question degree’s of impossibility
battles even waste
yes we know we know
for even waste knows his specific quantity
we know
so they perceive us stupid
in our humility
as the meek inherits the baton
prepare to flee
from hate to bias
we know
the unicycle maneuverability
where you pay for balance with difficulty
yes we know
and choose to live so
and the pure exudes vulnerability
and we know
(From Koll Pekude, Word – Sound & Poems of Vaughn Benjamin – 2005)
Intriguing to read his written poetry, though as when a student learns from the very presence of a teacher, the spoken word carries the movement that the written lacks.
Peace
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