One day
you gonna walk in this house
and i'm gonna have a long African
gown
you'll sit down and say 'The Black...'
and i'm gonna take one arm out
then you-not noticing me at all- will say 'What about this brother...'
and i'm going to be slipping it over my head
and you'll rap on about 'The revolution...'
while i rest your hand against my stomach
you'll go on-as you always do- saying
'I just can't dig...'
while i'm moving your hand up and down
and i'll be taking your dashiki off
then you'll say 'What we really need...'
and taking your shorts off
the you'll notice
your state of undress
and knowing you you'll just say
'Nikki/
isn't this counterrevolutionary...'
Playful seduction made real by taking dashiki off. Quite a thrill.
I see humor- -not some epic brainiac tour of philosophy and sociology. Some times a light touch can make a simple point- -like maybe Don't Forget to Enjoy Life.
Sensual and beautiful but confused where it is taking me. Written nicely.
Sex has pretty much been an integral part of every revolution and revolutionary throughout the history of mankind. How can the narrator of this poem imagine enacting such come-on and facing rejection by the subject of her fantasy? It's kind of far-fetched and I'm left pondering what the message is that she's trying to express in this poem. Is this meant to be a meditation on failure? Hers? The revolution? What? I don't get it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice poem, with sensuous lines