Genre/Type: Poetry
In honor of National Poetry Month, I will be attempting to write one poem a day.
Poem #1
The Plan by Kuamel Stewart
(Inspired by "Berta, Berta" by Branford Marsalis)
Berta, Berta - Branford Marsalis
The Plan
Lower the anchor.
Upon arrival, scour the land.
Guard yourself with your eyes. You have been warned. Their dexterity is uncanny.
They can win.
Begin your pilgrimage to the social dominance we have sought after.
Remember your roots to fuel your search. We praised Him, and they tried to kill us.
It is our time.
Rummage through the forest and find her.
When you finally see her, stare at the body that you could never fathom to exist.
Its locks will disgust you. Yes, I know. How could God create such a creature?
Blessed be the damned.
Appreciate its curves. The pigment will be infuriating, yet pleasing. Indeed, they are supple.
Now is not the time to be lecherous. However, if the call from your loins does not subside, quickly, do your business.
Grab her by her ankles. About face. Head back to the vessel.
Along the way, force her into submission.
Raise her higher. Take the nail and pierce it through every vein that circuitously makes up her hand.
Laugh at her cries. Mock her pain. Smell her blood and let her know that it tastes better.
Make her struggle to rise after she trips over your feet. And call the name that you’ve given her.
Stop by the wall where the hieroglyphics are drawn.
Know that your ire will be raised upon understanding that they worship the land.
We all know that Christ frets upon their practice.
And they will soon learn.
Drag her through the mire.
Let the Earth’s fecal matter finds its way through her skin.
Drown out her screams with intoned exclamations about the fortune that will soon be ours.
Make her realize that hell is envious of the experience that you are forcing her through.
What is she saying? We don’t care. She will speak our language, soon enough.
Strike her with the vengeance that God has divinely told us that they deserve.
The humidity will tire you.
Exact your frustrations on her body. You will be calmed.
Once by the shore, make her gather with the rest of her kind.
Make her look at her home for the very last time.
Tell her that the sand, rocks, trees, bushes, forests, and springs of this land are what she will see no longer.
Push her onto the deck. Drag her to the nadir of the vessel. The smell will be foul.
But the future is promising.
Join your brethren. Drink water from the beautiful ocean.
Calculate the time it will take to get back.
It may be best to wait for night. The stars allow for more precise navigation.
The series of outcries will annoy.
Pour water on the lot to quell their expressed suffering.
My brother, it is time, to return.
The takeover has just begun.
Expedite the night by singing our favorite hymns.
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