Progression 4
I apologise, I have had computer trouble of late. Virginia is passing away, in about three months I will have to purchase a new machine, in the mean time.. poetry.
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March Forth.
My friend Jay likes her birth date.
She says its a call to action: March 4th.
Her dread locks are tower blocks,
forehead for sky, nose: a shrouded figure
speeding by, back packed with sketchbooks
and gas masks, jeans patched more times
than he’s matched sticks to spliffs. He is
a loose hoodied slouch with spray cans,
crouched in a train yard, headphoned and
nodding hard to lyrics so deep it digs back
to the African forest where it started, back
to talking drums. Now, they talk in drum
patterns, scattered in Urban Jungles…
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Too harsh? a Cliche? or too blackpowerish? hmmm… it is true though. Communicating with stuttered sound predated Morse code and existed in Africa in the form of talking drums. The beats were messages themselves. And hip hop possibly stemmed from this – as rappers rhyme within beats, and the aim is to flow effortlessly with it. This is a perfect link to the field hand, the inventor of blues mythologized in this poem.
Next hurdle is simple, I am wondering about “Urban jungle”/”urban forest” ‘Jungle is commonly used to describe inner-city areas, so I am leaning towards forest, but I must research to see where a talking drum might have been used.. forest or jungle.
the next step is to link this to the section beginning “a poverty stricken kitten” where the protagonist is chased or disturbed by security guards.
