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mlowe5

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To The Sable Side of an Iago-American Mirror

CATEGORY

life

Views: 237

To the Sable Side of an Iago-American Mirror

(An Othello-Iago Perspective)

 

Strange, yet a reality none the less:

the oppressed destroying themselves

for the sake of the oppressor.

 

The battle of creatures of the sea

has now become that of the humanity

of the conquered land.  A bizarre misguided

catharsis born out of guided mind bending

of victims killing selves for the sake

of molded daily bread of the oppressor.

 

The dehumanizing of common human bond

etched into souls by Middle Passage bondage

and stitched into long landed psyche, has

yet to be extricated from psychological slave mentality.

Its debasing scraping—like the depths of the sea—continues

to run deep and wide as the Passage long ago.

 

The sea that spat upon the shores of a strange land,

swallowed the anchors of satanic ships laden

with remnants of the booty of their sooty cargo;

a sooty cargo whose songs made no sense in a strange land.

 

Shackles may be broken and fall clanging from their physical

grasping; but minds may remain invisibly chained—unaware.

In nature, the causes of demise often remain unseen—veiled.

And liberation becomes a misconceived deception; seasoned

by the salt of the sea—rather than burning with freedom’s fire!

 

America, a deception in disguise, has revealed herself in reality;

but like Iago’s ego, the true self remains among the unknown.

Yet she rings the bell of justice till it cracks—stilling its silent tongue;

and in veiled blindness hang scales to seek their own balance.

 

They stripped the heaven-ward pole of its clothing;

but the colors remain in altered stripes and stars—

flushing a noose-like wave in smoke filled skies reeking

with the murderous smell of spiraling gun powder residue

lingering in air as they echo purity while simultaneously

orating mass hued skin perdition.

 

Though we are of the same seed of our brother, Othello,

we shall not let this adopted land ‘…roast in sulphur…’

nor be washed ‘…in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire.’

Nay.  We are of the soul of the phoenix—

rising black doves roosting—plucking feathers of injustice

from the bleeding breast of a forgiven nation.

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COMMENTS

 

Newpanther says:

filled with knowledge.... appreciate this truth....
Contest Winner  

mlowe5 says:

Thank you, my Brother. Wrote this some time ago. I am humbled that the "clanging echoes" are stilled being heard. Peace and Love, mlowe5.
Contest Winner  

mlowe5 says:

ONE. Many thanks, love_supreme. Peace and Love.

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