A SIMPLE KEY FOR EPOCH POETRY UNVEILED

my eyes took your slender fingers & dreamed on them, they thinned creativity into a queen called sheba/nefertiti deeming you royalness/generating a fetish within your hand…As you could see, each individual line leads up to the cap, the ultimate just one. And the last assertion relies on a actuality that all Blacks know.of Black writers has at any

Black is the color of my little brother’s thoughts, the grey streaks in my mother’s hair. Black is the colour of my yellow cousin’s smile, the scards upon my neighbor’s wrinkled face…if tomorrow’s black poetry will not likely EXPLAIN what on earth is but Whether it is then pens will probably be electrical with sensation igniting as well