On Egypt . . .

This is a poem I wrote back in 2006 called The Egyptian Second Line:

brick by brick
black builders create
structures that defy
what those without
color conceive not
fear doesn’t allow
them to believe
or us to accept
how we are
multifaceted
duplicitous beings
bound by shackles
but mind is free
smooth as a tsunami
quiet as thunder
slow as the blink of an eye

the pharoah needs no mirror
to shave her face in the night
remember we are lynched
by the same ropes
we used to lift the pyramids
perplexed
it is our mournful bliss
as we square dance around the prism
passersby in our own land lost
as a pig blindfolded in a bull ring

sleeping with the tell-a-vision
my dreams are fed to me
rendering my subconscience
out of earshot
the hands of the clock stand still
dali watches my every move
diseased mind migrates
while my body jitterbugs
possesed by jungle ghosts

behind the other side of the door
my true self awaits me to answer
knock, knock
who’s there?
you
you who?
you who enslaves yourself
in order to find freedom

– Nicholas Payton

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