Shaking Our Heads

Earle of Pearls, on 40 dates; 40 wakes couldn’t save Paloma’s parceled heart. Ardor less spent at courting thieves; made present in gifting treasures stolen.

Pleasure packages via postal service; like exploratory heart surgery, blood sport
Emotional blood, wept as in tears, manner of complaint; what’s lacking in love.

Hopelessly money inspires malcontentment; whiskey breath for lavender scent.
Her moist temperament for his charisma; cracking of egg shells, violent-red yolk

Voluptuousness of silk, pours over skin; cosmopolitan flesh, muscularly-boned.
Optimal distraction, what led to divorce, separation from high art, love courtship

Go Vegetarian

El Guapo waters land with masculinity for birds to see.
Barbarism; fields of San Juan; rancheros herd caballos.
Animals hunger for air; his breath as vast as bluest ocean.
Sky overlooks his wealth; hedonism at the many villas.
“Preparar la concina para la comida”; feast on Lenguas.

He reigns supreme; hires servants to serve chuletas, costillas.
Compounds are free from warlords, wretched, thirsting for blood
El Despiadado, sought riches in family; would kill to save a son.
He sends his very own abroad to learn ways of water.

Heart like an engine; here, men do push-ups, lift weights.
American hombres ricos, pulling strings in the material world
Their martini lunches replaced by dining on wheat and grass
Clock work; day traders; at night, hot-wired, living the life
La vida rica: late night limousines, Caribbean Queens.

Hey Babe, Take A Walk On The … Fact That We’re All Repressing Our Emotions

By divine, I mean luxuriousness in you becoming known, new, nuanced.
San Fernando gods welcoming; their walls whitened, made tactile, trendy.
Each moment these hours await your return; life spent on hotel mattresses.
Call back the years, when sounds outside the window were machine music.
Factories, not farms: how you wished for a pony ride, trail through a garden.
Awaken then; world beckons; of its summer grass you’ll walk picking flowers.
Daffodil in your hair; like geese walking grounds of park, you collect sunshine.
Loaded, your body having undertaken this trek, put to use those wise words.
Wisdom that resonated within the air, felt ready-made for song, melody, tune.
On stage, housed before the band are those represented as family, cult, sign.
They answer to a goddess-call, each note hangs up to ceiling, golden design.
Sooner, you wish for feeling on your mouth of your favorite ice-cream spoon.
Come back; wash away stress of that Sunday dress, bought with tiny tears.
Come back; sleep well-fed; knife and fork dinner, to éclair, welcome you home

Renée LoBue is a musician, performance and visual artist. Best known as the singer for the band, Elk City, she recently embarked on a 2nd musical endeavor: Flowers of America. Dividing time dancing between mediums, she explores the possibility of the Self via music, analog collage and video art.

Kofi Fosu Forson is writer, poet and playwright. His Blog, BLACK COCTEAU explores matters of sexual, gender, and ethnic politics in modern society, culture and arts. His current poetry manuscript, Never Rode Me A Horse In The Appalachian Hills, deals with his transformative experience from race, family dystopia and rock and roll.