Please do not feed the artists
It’s best for harvest to keep them starving
A dystopian future
Tales of the refugitives
Live to the universe
We’re always live on the internet
Broadcast to your inner depths with radio for space cadets
I take selfies and call it art
I'm a divinely ripened pear
My ass is an upside down heart
In my head I’m still a little square
But apparently I’m just the right look for the part
I don’t really want that part
For this fable
Who ever told you I desired to dine at your table?
I am no longer abomination, Black dog, spawn of Satan
I am accommodation, no more
I’m daughter of eden
Green as harvest in Jamaica
I am harvest of Jamaica
Sickly sweet like magnolia trees
But spiced in temper like roasted coffee beans
And I’m so selfish
I took samples off the shelf like apprentice and forgot to document the possessive
In my attempt to progress I got restless
Trampled on what I deemed the preventents
They gave glory to my saga
Troubles for mañana
Story for the barber
But cotton woven into thick rib knit
Has highs in its texture and grooves where it dips
I learnt to place pause within and around sentence
To lean into speech like it presses upon cheek
Pressing into me 360 degrees
To caress gently
Because supple is soft
But supple is firm
Supple is the vapour that carries these words
Like a soft reverb let skin press gently back into ether
Back into the room like the light is presently consumed
By you
Resist without rigidity
Exist without timidity
Let this body be limitless-ly
Dangle feet over ledge
Then tumble feet over head
And feel the weight of nothing on your shoulders
Bones in aligned order
Sequence of designed motion
Worship your vessel of devotion
Float skin to brim like droplets carried by the breeze
Mirror the air by the sea
The effervescence and the ease
Let crystal meet water like likeness of daughter
Let their harmony be sweet
Melody in their greet
Electricity, like the network is beneath
Float, seamlessly through your space and your mind
That your eyes canvas a projection of what’s inside
On this side
Let humidity and brimming leaves— green as home country— be the forecast for your galaxy
Let your eyes fall drastically
When slumber calls the rascals dream
And I hope you dream of peace
Repeat after me—
I am healthy
I am happy
I am whole
I am worthy
I am hopeful
I am healing
Please do not feed the artists
It’s best for harvest to keep them starving
Their work becomes catharsis
A self sustaining garden
