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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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Author:Bethel, Marion
Publication:Black Renaissance/Renaissance Noire
Article Type:Poem
Geographic Code:5BAHA
Date:Jun 22, 2008
Previous Article:When He Is Gone.
Next Article:Guanahani, My Love.

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