Of Pirates and Junkanoo.
I drum away a dream drunk in pirated laughter and gold I blow again my shell of conch stripped of wax chronicler of stacks of raw sugar, tobacco and mould. I sing acappella a nation sunk trapped in a piracy mould swaggering about a golden trunk of union jacks Americana pax found in a slaver's hold. Blow that conchshell shake them bells in junkanoo resistance bold pirates sell land like tourist shells greased hands in a trance of lashes--myths of gold.
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|Publication:||Black Renaissance/Renaissance Noire|
|Date:||Jun 22, 2008|
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