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David LJL Smalling' Profile

3maroon_men
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Legendary Poet

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▲ 15 points in the past 7 days

About Me and My Poetry

Rebecca Williams, my father's mother, blood in me,invested my ancestory among the Accompong Maroons. Her father, Joseph williams is one of the signatories to the Maroon Peace treaty with England. John Lord Smalling, my father's father, is related to the German house of Hanover; he fought on the side of Samuel Sharp and was lashed. My mother is Johnson and Jackson from Hanover, a long line of politicians and public servants. I am only the vision of the human soul, the emotions transformed to a voice since age 11. My father died when I was thirteen and that grief transformed my hunger into philosophy and poetry became the therapy and tongue. The academic extrovert, after JSA, UWI, CCNY and the Workers University, Hungary, is still an emotional recluse. I studied business, agriculture, natural science, education and anthropology and met only escape routes for our temporariness, our immortal finitude, but no answer outside of God that says why. I was born in spring but live in the winter of the world - and wrote my poems on walls, sand, trees, papers the wind blew away, and here. I write under my name and my pseudonym Lnass Shango, and under every variance of them - and yet I remain singular in a world of carbon copies. We need one another, hence my presence at the gate of love.

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Assets

3maroon_men
Every time I step into the light
I see shadows all around
My days are traced by hunts of night
... continued
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3maroon_men
I confronted the mirror again today
And could not tell
Which like words would vanish away
... continued
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3maroon_men
When you manipulate the child to hate

Ignoring the lies that build your bridge
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3maroon_men
The young are dying now like flies

Breaking bonds and blaspheming ties. 
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3maroon_men
Come to think of it
The atmosphere is electrified
And it was so before I came
... continued
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3maroon_men
There was this driver who was driven
It something deep I could tell
For what we are good at is not found
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3maroon_men
The moon swells on high
The sky is mute in its light -
The poem I write.
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3maroon_men
The bush is not proximity
For I in birth nakedness finds it
Intricate as my identity
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3maroon_men
They are counting your nearness
With disbelief, 
I, I shall reserve my berth of grief
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3maroon_men
Register this in light against my wax
Oracles told it before the earth
Anxiety wasted us, our cunning taxed
... continued
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