I am an assembling
cloud of emotion, thunder, riddles, and cranes. I ride amongst the wampas and
wildabeasts that long for a never ending story of how the mighty Cage triumphed
over the nefarious Crowe of Avalon whom bestowed upon the grounded soil nothing
but banally toasted flies that wrapped themselves in the sweet, tender
uteri of wild Goldblums.- Saleem Bodden. I am a copy cat.
Cage and Crowe were
once giants and lived in the tall trees of Congo forest. Then there was no day
or night. Mighty Cage bore the sky and the Crowe bore gravity. Cage bore a
male, Crowe an hermaphrodite. Cage sang in the air and Crowe caused vacuum.
During a sexual drought, when Cage’s wild son couldn’t masturbate in the rough howling
wind, he proposed a moment marriage to Crowe’s child. Gods love sex with
humans. When Crowe wanted a kiss, the Cage got sick.
The vapour that shines
from screeching breaks, freezing night grass and scorching wall papers are the
yeast to hay of my emotion feeding. It rings in the highway of my thoughts
causing goose bumps that overturn the flying motor home to a godless heaven.
Keeping a chameleon eye to the vulture that killed an elephant living in the
bedroom of inherited pithecus.
Who swallows? It takes
amplitude thrust to swim on the clouds with chicken feathers sculpted in the fiber
muscles. Who quacks? The ancestors of the wind. Who grinds? The mountains and
their valley enemies. Which knows? The misdoings of a dog on a human apple.
Creaks crooks cracks…Mighty
Cage moves…creaks crooks cracks…More hurry folk…creaks crooks cracks *3.
Whoever hops over the branches of political diatribes clutching the machete of
peace to send African mortals to war will be rewarded by the Cage. His ego will
be moulded to beautiful skirmish and groins increased in shape. Their curves
will be ruled and a clump line deposited for a perfect radius. Satan in his
absencia will empty the lubricants in his slow jump ups. Love and hatred behind
and front will not be banked. Rape!
I am the words that are replaced in a talk, sentenses of the dreams, question tags, commas and full stops in an oral poem. I am the boom sound of a lizard tail skin drum. I live in the marrows of dinosaurs' teeth. I invented Nietzsche and drove the pangs in the hands on the cross. I keep people busy and idle.
The present past in its
glory closes its eyes to the handsome cry of a voyeur sibling. The old woman
ready to kiss the heavens a welcome gives rewards to her children living in the
ovum. A razor digs in the fiber to expose a growing millipede. Traditionally,
when an ovum refuses to move past the tube, the rest curse it. It grows to a millipede.
A centipede for the next and a python for the next next. The gods loves sex and
nefarious Crowe couldn’t want her beau fertilized by the crooked crane of mighty
Cage’s son wretched in addiction.
African Greeks in one
of the riddles hide the famous novel that brings the earth into being. The
earth gets born daily. The thunder screamed, lightning bellowed and rain had
butterflies in its water stomach. Whoever saw the leafy scroll his hair dried
up and fell into the sea below. If you are lucky, having an increased libation
roll, the hair float in mid air to be restored on the body- pubic hair at the
chin, chin hair at the elbow.
Amadioha, the great
African god advised Chinua Achebe to instigate the issue. He wrote a mock
Bible- Things Fall Apart. Okonkwo the Messiah fought the Crowe on top of Mount
Everest in the company of Zulu the first. The drums cracked and flutes crashed.
They could no longer sound.
This is why the caves
have roofs, rivers meander, day and night fall, blacks evolved to whites and
trees grow facing upwards but their fruits fall to the ground.
Does this even reflect the genious of Saleem?
I need to get this published
ReplyDeleteDon't. do. do donts. Ha!
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