WE MUST KEEP MOVING
I’m trying to find the right wordsto write and express what I see
what I’ve seen so many times
when swarms of injustice spreads
leaving behind bloody trails
soaked breadcrumbs thrown aside
to find our way back home
inside stale grief still lingers
and echoes against the walls
the familiar smell of death
tickles up our itchy noses
with stewed formaldehyde
to pickle faces to look pretty
how many sacrifices are enough?
perhaps we can baptize a new warrior
in the pools cried by these people
a sleepy child tired of this service
watched our every move
and rose to look when we sang
we shall overcome in low whispers
with thirsty chapped lips
tasting only fallen tears trailing
into the black hole where songs
were caught by waves of gravity
sucked back through time to ears
waiting, no praying, on old, bent knees
covered in ash and pavement stones
but they don’t hurt no more
cause we numb and broken but still go on
broken tears snatched by the wind
singing to our hearts to fill empty chambers
thumping chest beats sound like Delta Blues
circulating warmth and memories
we stood walking carefully near cracks
not to break Momma’s back
where dandelions stretch their stems
on old roads made by many marching angry feet
I hear an echoed thunder from their soles
and see NO fear in the eyes of their souls
no backsliding to worry about cause all I know
WE must keep moving
we MUST keep moving
we must KEEP moving
WE MUST KEEP MOVING
until our work is done.
THE SEER (2016)
STAY AWAKE FOR THIS
Stay awake night creepsfloating behind gray clouds
secrets whispered to the moon
distant craters of icy wells
for drinking strong ice tea
on warm August nights
children running after fireflies
Stay awake day rises
frothing on the edge coming
pillow clutched for comfort
familiar faces in lucid dreams
for lips to kiss good morning
longing hungry tongues
to taste our passions
Stay awake death rattles
clanging with dull rusty sickle
desires caged within ribs
lust plays with shadows
to lure them onto cold flesh
reaching between dark places
to bring the little death
Stay awake eyes searching
blinding crusty corners of sight
alone confronting this day
sounds blasting to the ears
to provide distractions again
wanting silence to meditate
to reset my head
Stay awake hands reaching
grasping toward distant hands
faces zooming another session
teeth grinning to each other
to feel distant connections
binding the wireless cords
to bring us together
LAYERED VISIONS OF THE PAST (2021)
THE JUSTICE OF BULLETS FOR CROWD CONTROL
I AM DEAD
Words thrown at your face
bullets shot into my head
attack dogs keep me in place
it’s okay if I end up dead
EVIDENCE IS DEAD
mourn me virtual distant eyes
see the red holes in my chest
lips spit out their old dusty lies
show the body cam on the vest
MY CHILD IS DEAD
a grieving mother’s tears rain down
father’s hands try to lift his child still
as blood fills the cracks in the ground
outlined chalk lines drawn to reveal
THEIR EYES ARE DEAD
we’re lookin for another way
finding new paths of Freedom’s dream
outpouring loud words we scream
WE ARE HUMAN!
PAINTING AWAITING BIRTH REBIRTH CONNECTIONS (2020)
Henry L. Jones is an award-winning poet, artist, and playwright as well as an activist. He digs up old roots to share whether as images or words. He’s the author of Run into Blackness: Feeling My Poetic Gumbo (Pneuma Publishing International) and Black Skillet Blues: Poetry without Cornbread (Beatlick Press) due in early 2022. Literary activities include: Art Wire Fellow of The Porch Writers Collective and OZ Arts Nashville Center; Artist, Nashville Symphony Orchestra NEA Program, Tennessee at the Millennium; Inaugural Poet Laureate, Hendersonville, Tennessee; Poet-in-Resident, Hendersonville Public Library; Visiting Poet, Line Breaks Literary Reading Series; Poet, Black Voices Matter; Artist and Poet of Nashville Visionaries; Co-editor, SINEW: 10 Years of Poetry in the Brew (Anthology); Judge, Southern Word Poetry; Poet, Haiku Healing Project; and Poet, Dream Geographies Series; Poet, The African Male Museum Series and others. His poetry has appeared in many anthologies, journals, books and magazines as well converted into dance renditions and videos. Often he’s featured to read at universities, colleges and festivals as a visiting artist and writer. Recently, he was a featured poet of Chapter 16, publication of Humanities Tennessee and and on NPR for his art hanging in the Kindred Links exhibit at the Parthenon Museum. Currently, he’s converting a poem into a film, exhibiting art, writing poetry, working in theater and completing some children’s books. Between these activities, he enjoys a large cup of strong coffee. Jones is a graduate of Fisk University in Nashville, Tennessee. A Detroit native and Chicago transplant, he lives in Music City with his wife. They have three adult children. Social Media: Instagram: henryjonesing4colors, YouTube: spreadingcolor, Twitter: @Creativeforlife.
Layout & page design: @frede_kenter
IceFloe Press 