David Floren

Nina Simone

It starts with heart and vision,
Crisp voice of concision.

Such plain and precise demands:
Black hair. Strong hands.

It starts to talk confusion,
Stalking doubt’s cousin delusion

Preempting this constant preying.
“I can do better” you’re saying.

Are you who you are?
More becoming perhaps.

Constellation or bright star?
Freedom fears traps.

Who’s so free who’ll
Be no one’s fool

But young and yours?
Among scores?

Ever questions to pose.
And everywhere’s doors.

Allowance is for those
Who do their chores.


[2-25-2004 Santa Rosa, CA]

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, February 12, 2008

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