Dream

He Thinks

Posted on by Napoleon Dozier

Day fall. 

The night awakes with a sack full of stars to wage war with the inventors of sleep, on code, his heart attacks the memories that got lost in his twenties. The left behind that led the blind are now in charge of the past.

Past time, bed for headless heroes who swore, curse the back they broke down on, a table turns, watch me channel all the life of you into now.

Harder?

Watch them die before they say you were here. I know they want to say goodbye to all they ever thought they knew. You lose again. All they ever dreamed of you was ashes wrapped in grated whispers. Add a little reverb to the scream that travels the celestial highway alongside you. She echoes like the ghosts of Tinder that trail off to moons in studio lots.

It hits different than the shame. A guilt trip to Honolulu by way of Mercury, makes the simp feel beta than never. 

Harder!

Venus knows her clock better than she knows her heart….

Time out of mind, sign out of love, ducked a good one. The bullet didn’t miss. The heart doesn’t belong here.

Harder Than love.

Today

Posted on by Napoleon Dozier

Paul. Medgar. Malcolm. Martin. Bodies of murder. Not all by the bullet. Hazel. Claudette. A day for one. A day for all. Slow death tames the loud and proud. They burried the living and laughed with them as they turned pages and cheeks. Mighty like Jehu. Zealous too. Lap the water with cuped hands and you keep your eyes open so that you don’t fall for the dream that sleeps with your unfaithful heart. That young man you see is that old man that sighs. Been here before. Been new. Been clean. Been old for sure. Been dead. Some die to live. Some love to death. And some tarry with the years they accumulate. Caesar takes his cut but no deals with black messiahs. Hoover up the Hamptons. Freddie’s dead as Curtis said. Been here before. Known the soil like they knew soul food. Like cotton. Like candy. Like us. We were sweet. We were lovers. She loved him dearly. Loved us to life. Dreams. That’s what it was. We were ideas. Not fixed. Not defined. We were possibilities for the pulled trigger to decipher. And bullets explore continents with names like Robeson. Evers. X. King. Scott. Colvin…….. ……… ………. ….. ……. ……… ….. …… …… ……. ……. …….. …….. ….. And years blow back to hunt the now before we wake with ideas to fix and define today.