Honey, De White Man Is De Ruler

From Barren Brown Stems To Glistening Leaf-buds; From The Leaf-buds To Snowy Virginity Of Bloom…it Was Like A Flute Song Forgotten In Another Existence And Remembered Again. What? How? Why? This Singing She Heard That Had Nothing To Do With Her Ears. The Rose Of The World Was Breathing Out Smell. It Followed Her Through All Her Waking Moments And Caressed Her In Her Sleep.

I Belong To No Race Nor Time. I Am The Eternal Feminine With Its String Of Beads.

So She Sat On The Porch And Watched The Moon Rise. Soon Its Amber Fluid Was Drenching The Earth, And Quenching The Thirst Of The Day.

Justice, Like Beauty, Is In The Eye Of The Beholder.

Africa Has Her Mouth On Moses.